


Shakespeare Did Not Write Us

by NeverNova



Category: Ben 10 Series, Ben 10: Alien Force - Fandom
Genre: Annoying!Julie, Apprentice!Kevin, Bevin - Freeform, Bitchy!Ben, Cocky!Ben, Friends to Lovers, Gay, Grampa Max is a hip Grampa, I don’t know how to tag and we can all tell, Kevin loves Cheeseburgers and Milkshakes and you can’t change my mind, Lonely!Ben, M/M, Mr Smoothie, Sexuallyconfused!Ben, Slow Burn, Smoker!Kevin, Street Fights, Summer Love, Summer break, They fuck but not when Ben’s 15 because...the law?, Worried!Gwen, bottom Ben, lots of head canon, omg they were roommates, smart!kevin, soccer games, soft gay, supportive!gwen, top kevin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2020-05-30 17:28:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19407976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverNova/pseuds/NeverNova
Summary: Gwen’s gone. And now he’s left with Kevin. Just Kevin.Kevin the thief. Kevin the illegal arms dealer. Kevin the street rat and crook.A con artist on the best of days, a violent ex-inmate on the worst. He’s been in the beds of many when night comes but goes with it as morning wakes.Ben has seen him in a fight - a fight with humans, regular humans, normal humans, human-humans. He’s shows no mercy, no care, nor regret. Just aggression and dominance and vice.He’s a monster.But he’s still his Kevin.The Kevin who loves reading Shakespeare. The Kevin who listens to The Jonas Brothers on his morning runs. Kevin who knows the Navier-Stokes Equation off by heart. Kevin who takes two sugars with his coffee. Kevin who smokes at three am when he can’t sleep and hates himself for it.The Kevin who would rather work on his car then talk with others because he gets nervous in social situations.The Kevin who doesn’t know how to tie his own tie.But he’s still a monster. Because only something as wicked and foul as a monster could somehow trick Ben into falling into love with him.Especially since Ben is straight....Right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I upload every second Friday and my chapters are usually 5000 words long (not including the pilot). I’m thinking 15 chapter for this one? Maybe less? I’m not planning on a big story, just something to work on and build upon my writing. So think of this as a project. Also I am very aware of the fact that my first chapter (the pilot) is very...fluffy in words. My writing is a bit like that but I know it’s annoying so I’m toning it way down for every chapter after that. I might have a couple of fluffy lines here and there but nothing too Over the top. 
> 
> P.S I’m not really following much of the plot from Ben 10: AF, just a bunch of headcanons I thought up in an AU sort of environment. However, this isn’t a complete au - they are still in the Ben 10 multiverse, it’s just people(?) aren’t trying to kill them 24/7 now. 
> 
> Well I hope you all enjoy and I’m always up for criticism and suggestions or other headcanons you guys believe would suit the characters.
> 
> (I am not a shareholder in the Ben 10 franchise, nor do I own any part of intellectual property of the franchise)

**Pilot**

When asked when it all started, the only thing he could think about was the first night in May when the soul of the sky befell that of the Louvre - a dreary sea of suicide and stolen art. He remembered that night quite clearly – well, that’s not quite true, what he truly remembered of that night was quite little, really. But what he could recall from such a night was something deeply memorable.

  
Though really, how could one ever forget the night the heaven’s fell?

  
Or how they fell with it.

  
He felt like a moon-stung Icarus in that sense, lying there in a bowl of his own creation after being shot out of the sky. Instead of a wax melting sun, his ruin was brought by an elegant magenta blast. However, unlike that of the sun which could only burn and simmer the wings, the energy beam was like death in pink gloss tearing apart the seams of his flesh. It was as if his whole being was swallowed and left to stew in the hell-jaws of an atomic bomb. His muscles coiled like a struck snake and spasmed until he was sure his lungs tore and his breath was snatched from him. For a time – a long time – he thought he ceased breathing altogether.

  
Logically he knew the accident was only half a minute long.

  
Yet, logic was as useful as a boat with holes when you were being scorched to ash.

  
He didn’t remember at which point he transformed back into his human self: whether it was during the incident, or while he fell, or after he hollowed the earth as Jet-ray.

  
And while the fall itself was a painless one – he liked to think the gravel greeted him with gentle hands and a mothering hold. It was thick-headed to believe, naive as well, but it was much better than the reality of the event. – he was smart enough to know that if there was any sort of pain, his body was either in too much shock, or his nerves were too charred to feel it. The same could be said about the agony which should have bashed his bones when he collided with the ground.

  
Funny enough the blast, the pain, the descend, the impact – it was all a fuzzy cocktail of memories and his own damn brain trying to conjure puzzle-pieces and fabrications to fit the story he was told.

  
What truly reminisced in his mind that night, was as he fell, so did the stars. And while their plunge was one of triumphant grace and holy lore, his was like that of a broken doll.

  
Be he a doll, be he apart of the heavens, no matter what he be, he still felt akin to them.

  
Even more so when lolling in a crater and watching as the stars began to fall as a collection of combusted souls; all white with woe and dripping like wax off a candlestick.

  
You’d never pick any night to be shot out of the sky, but if given a choice he would tell you to pick that night of all nights. You would honestly consider yourself lucky to have been struck out at the same time as a cluster of shooting stars. Lucky that you were not lonely at what could have possibly been your last moments.

  
He sure did.

  
He thought he was ready for a deep rest at that point, he recalled the heavy slumber on his lashes as the last of the stars ran wild through the twilight.

  
Looking back, he knew how truly close he came to death that night.

  
It wasn’t the first, and wouldn’t be the last, but that didn’t make it any less chilling.

  
Though, no matter how tied to the shooting stars he felt, they weren’t his more evoked memory of that night.

  
“ _Ben!_ ”

  
The irony was thick during his last bits of consciousness, and Ben didn’t know whether it was Gwen’s mana blast that stole the memory of his own name or his impact with the sidewalk but for some odd reason he couldn’t recall it during all that was happening. Not until that moment. Either way, Ben didn’t believe that in all his years to come, would he ever forget the memory of his name being bellowed out like that.

  
He never imagined Kevin saying his name in such a way. With so much emotion. So much worry. So much heartache.

  
It scared Ben.

  
It scared him more than death.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben gets his bubble popped.

“Ouch!”

“Come on now, stop moving. I need to clean you up before you head home, kiddo.”

It had been two days since the accident. Two days and now his whole weekend was gone. As in what was once a casual Friday night of alien-ass-kicking was now a soft, May Monday morning. Though, Ben wouldn’t have known the difference either way whether it was Friday, Sunday Monday, Christmas Day, it meant nothing for him. He had been in a self-induced coma for the whole of the weekend. So really, it felt as if only a few hours ago that Gwen lost control of her powers and shot him out of the sky. Apparently, being scorched alive and falling a hundred feet from the air does that to a person. Alien or not.

But it had been two days. Because it was no longer Eight-fifty-two at night, Friday the 1st of May, but Nine-Nineteen AM, May 4th. Two days.

He could tell by the digital clock in the heart monitor – his heart monitor. It woke in a spasm of alarms and beeping and flashing lights when Ben himself stirred out from of his coma and into a panic attack. He had made the mistake of startling himself into one when realising he was no longer out in the streets of Bellwood, but instead an unfamiliar white room attached to a number of wires. Well. No. Again, that was not true (it was hard to know what was true, and what was not when your mind was so unclear and cotton-wooled). His panic only caused the mistake. The mistake itself was feverishly ripping out whatever wire he could find coming out from his body. The machine didn’t seem to like that.

“Grandpa Max”, Ben whined, “cut it out – I’m fine.”

The stern look Grandpa Max held in his eyes could tell him otherwise, “Son. You were in a coma. You had a concussion. Burns. Bruises. A frac-”

“Yeah, well, I’m fine now, so cut it out!”

“ _Ben_.”

Ben knew that tone.

It was the tone Kevin would use when he had stepped over the line with the wrong person. The person who was usually only trying to help Ben. The tone in which told Ben he had the choice to either cease talking altogether or to apologise immediately. He didn’t like that tone. Hated it, actually. Despised it, truly.

It made him feel like a fucking child.

“It’s okay, Kevin,” Max said, a hand raised in the air in an attempt to soothe out the tension between the boys. “Ben’s right, I am smothering. I’m just trying to do what Gwen would if she was here herself.”  
  
The scowl born out of both stubbornness and acrimony on Ben’s lips pressed out into a droopy sulk at the mention of his cousin.  
  
She was the only one not in Ben’s room when he woke himself into a fright.  
  
Ben let the green of his eyes stray over to where Kevin sat, alone and without the ginger by his side.

Kevin…

He seemed tired and drained, yet at the same time, so composed.

It wasn’t very…Kevin of him.

Honestly, Ben should be thanking the other teen. Or at least shying away from him in embarrassment.

For it was Kevin who had held Ben down during his panic attack when he first woke.

Kevin who had kept Ben from doing any more damage to himself while he thrashed around the bed like an animal caged. Kevin who reminded him how to breathe when he found himself without it. And again, Kevin, who had calmed him down and brought him back to his senses with placid touches and milky words.

_Breathe, Ben._

_It’s okay, Ben._

_You’re safe, Ben._

_Come on Ben, count to ten with me._

_That’s it, Ben, good job._

_Breathe._

_I’m here, Ben._

_You’re not alone, Ben_.

God. Maybe he was a child.

“…It’s not her fault, you know. She shouldn’t be punishing herself like this.” Ben sunk deep within the white of the bed, his words were that of a church mice. Quiet. “It was an accident.”

Max casted the young hero with sad eyes, “we know that, Ben. But Gwen doesn’t.”

The brunet twitched with bother.

“It was an accident out on patrol. We were fighting. I got caught in the cross fire. It happens!”

“Not every damn time you use your powers, it’s not.”

Kevin was now peering out of the only window in the room. He wore a grim air around him like how one would wear a winter coat on a cold day. Dressed for the occasion.

_Jeez. How can he be that cold? And towards Gwen as well. What a heartless jerk._

Logically, Ben knew Kevin was right, and that his thoughts were ones based on emotion and the need to protect his cousin. Jerk or not, there was no denying that. How could he? He was living evidence that Gwen had lost all control of her powers. That her Anodite side had become too great for a rookie like herself to handle – a human like herself to handle. Alike to Ben, Gwen’s emotions played too much into her abilities. Triggering them to behave in such an abnormal way was bound to happen in any type of confrontation.

Ben just never thought she would lose control in such a way where she’d shoot down every moving target in sight. Taking him out in the process as Jet-ray, as well.

“That’s enough sulking for one day, kiddo, time to get you home before your parents come after me for dragging you away from school for a last-minute ‘fishing trip’.”

The hero gave his Grandfather an odd sort of look. Ben was fifteen. A boy ripe in his teenage years. Why would he waste away a whole weekend on a fishing trip? Sometimes his parents worried him how gullible they could be.

“Kevin.” Grandpa Max said, calling the attention of the quieter teenager. “Would you take Ben home for me? I have a few things to clear up here.”

Grandpa Max took off with those last words even though Ben still had questions that weighed anxiously on his tongue. He wanted to know what the fate was for that alien they were fighting the night of the accident. If it was caught, or whether, because of Ben’s slip up: escaped. For fuck sake, Ben didn’t even know the alien’s name. But now Grandpa Max was gone. And Ben was left alone – alone with Kevin, waiting for the older boy to take him home. The brunet didn’t want to talk with Kevin, discuss his worries and self-disappointment with Kevin. Kevin didn’t do emotions. Didn’t do talking about emotions. He wasn’t good at talking, didn’t like talking. Ben had known him long enough now to know how it was with him. Every time Kevin and Gwen would get into a heated discussion (mostly about why Kevin hadn’t asked her out already), all Kevin would do was spit venom or completely shut down the conversation altogether. It had left tears in Gwen’s eyes on some occasions. And anger in Ben’s own. Kevin, however, didn’t seem to care.

Kevin was a jerk.

“Oi, Tennyson. I’m talkin’ to ya’.”

Blinking a few times, Ben realised he had spaced out. Though not uncommon for him – he got bored easily. Fight him – Ben was always aware of his surroundings, and if someone was trying to get his attention. He had to be in his line of work. Because if you don’t get observant – you get dead. Why he didn’t catch Kevin’s words, he didn’t know. Maybe it was a fresh-out-of-a-coma thing?

Ben grunted, indicating to Kevin that he was now participating in the conversation.

“Get dressed and meet me outside. You’ve got ten minutes before I come back in and drag your scrawny ass out. Clothed or not.” The tension within Kevin’s jaw as he spoke did nothing but augment the gravel of his voice. The Osmosian was vexed, Ben could tell. And that, in return, annoyed the brunet.

Was the thought of being alone in a car with him that…incommodious? It seemed as if – without realising it or purposely meaning to – Ben had peaked a new level of annoying. Yay.

In reality, though, it bothered Ben.

It bothered Ben because Kevin wasn’t always a jerk.

He was just always one to _Ben_.

“Come on man!” Ben could whine, Kevin was being a jerk, as usual. Ben didn’t know if he could walk, let alone get dressed in such a short amount of time. His limbs felt like anchors in the sea of white and sheets he was currently lost in. So yeah, Ben could whine. “I just woke up from a coma, cut me some slack!”

Kevin shrugged, leaving the room the same way Grandpa Max did.

“Not my problem.”

iIIi

Ben had made at least eleven discoveries since being woken from his coma. Discovery number one: most people who were previously in a coma don’t usually have an appetite until quite sometime after the audial. However, Ben was not most people.

“Yo. I’m hungry, man.”

“That’s nice”, Kevin replied. He was driving at a civil pace for once, number on five Ben’s list of discoveries: Kevin Levin can, in fact, do the speed limit. “Tell that to your ma’ when you get home.”

It was clear to the brunet that the conversation had ended, and that Kevin wasn’t going to get him food. Ben thought it was an appropriate time to moan about his dislike of Kevin’s new attitude.

Boring Kevin was almost as bad as Jerk-face Kevin.

So Ben took to sulking in the front seat of the cameo instead. Which became discovery number seven: sulking in the passenger seat of Kevin’s car was way more dramatic then sulking in the back like a loser. While the backseat of the cameo was his usual place – Gwen liked being in the front. And typically was, too. Something to do with giving her better reach when tracking down a baddie or… something. It was total bullshit in Ben’s eyes. But in Kevin’s car, there are certain rules one needed to follow to be rewarded with the front seat: ‘first come, first served’ and ‘a fight to the death as long as you don’t get blood on the leather’ was the traditional rules. So naturally, Ben was stuck at the back for most rides – while it was just him and Kevin, Ben took the only good advantage of not having Gwen around and scored the passenger seat.

With his lips a pout, Ben drew out a sigh and refocused his downcast eyes off Kevin and out onto the street they were currently humming down. The front seat window did wonders for the cinematography of the whole performance. Everything from mutual coloured houses with their grassy lawns and picket fences to cars dull in colour and character compared to the one Ben was currently in, was like a smear of humdrum on the window of the cameo.

Ben’s second discovery so happened to be Kevin’s ability to keep a promise. He wasn’t joking when he’d threatened Ben earlier about changing out of his hospital gown and into his daily attire. And fast.

Discovery number three: When Kevin means ten minutes – he means ten minutes.

Not long after Kevin did in fact ‘drag his scrawny ass out’, the young hero stumbled upon his third discovery.

Discovery number four: Plumbers were tightly associated with Barbers.

How exactly?

Aliens. That was how.

Apparently, Barbers and Barbershops acted as doctors and hospitals for the immigrant Aliens stationed on earth as well as providing free healthcare for Plumbers injured on duty.

So while Ben thought he and Kevin were walking out of Bellwood’s Plumber Base, they were actually walking out of Bellwood’s local Barbershop. A place Ben himself had been a regular too since he was three when Grandpa Max first took him to get his hair cut…

“Why wasn’t Gwen there when I woke up? I mean, you were.”

It took some time for Kevin to find his voice. Ben didn’t know if it was because the Osmosian chose to chew over his words, or if he was contemplating answering the brunet at all. Kevin continued to thump his thumb on the wheel of the cameo nonetheless. And while the beat didn’t harmonise with either the white noise of the stereo or the purr of the car itself, Ben was convinced it was the pulse of his own thoughts which Kevin was following.

Finally, the tapping stopped. “School.”

It was a simple answer. But not the right answer.

“Bullshit.”

Kevin snorted as he shot Ben an unimpressed glare, “if you didn’t want a bullshit answer don’t ask me a bullshit question: simple. Use your head, Tennyson. Why do ya’ think she didn’t want to be there?”

“She’s being ridiculous”, Ben argued, the heat of his words sparked tension within the car. “It’s over. It happened. It’s in the past. We don’t need to bring it up or hold anyone accountable for it. So why can’t she just do the same? It was an accident.”

Ben didn’t know when he stepped over a line, or what line he’d stepped over, but whatever he said had caused the white of Kevin’s knuckles to bloom bright and brutal as he throttled the stirring wheel.

Thank god they were at a red light.

“Listen, Ben.” Kevin hissed. “You don’t get what it feels like to lose control of your powers. To be consumed by something of your own creation until you’re nothin’ but a mad dog. You’re just too much of a ‘goodie-goodie’ to comprehend it. What happened to Gwen – it scared her. Big time. It wasn’t the first time this shit has happened. The only difference this time was that you were her target, not some rogue alien freak. So yeah, excuse your cousin for being ridiculous. If I’d ever lost myself like that, I’d hope someone had the common sense to pop a cap in my ass and just end me.”

The last of Kevin’s words caught Ben off guard.

“Kev,” Ben arched an eyebrow up at the other teen. “You kinda already have…when we were kids. Remember? You were that little eleven-year-old psychopath who tried to kill me. Like twice.”

Kevin rolled his eyes with a new sense of annoyance. “What I remember is tellin’ ya’ to drop that, Tennyson. And exactly, I was eleven. A kid. You don’t kill kids.”

“…But now?”

“What do ya’ do to a rabid dog, _Ben_?”

Ben bit his lip.

“You’d put it down.”

There was a dreary dread in the air after that. The sort you would find on a December day after a funeral. And the dire of Kevin’s reply did nothing to help.

“Exactly.”

Discovery number eight: Kevin didn’t care if he died.

The light finally turned green.

iIIi

Time seemed endless as silence hung in the air like a dead man after their conversation.

“Get out.”

Ben jolted at Kevin’s cut-throat words.

“What? Are you crazy? I’d be walking into open traffic!”

“Ben,” the Osmosian said, bewilderment igniting the dark of his eyes. “We’ve been parked out the front of ya’ place for the past six minutes.”

“Oh.” Uncertainty struck the brunet hard. “I knew that.”

He didn’t.

In almost complete unison, both teenagers departed from the cameo. However, that didn’t last very long. Ben’s footing was as hesitant and precarious as a newborn fawn’s. Kevin, on the other hand, walked with pure swagger. Their dissimilar strides fashioned a large and uneven gap between the two teenagers.

“Hey, James Dean”, Ben called out after the other. “You left your precious ‘ride’ unlocked.”

Kevin shrugged, “yeah, so what of it? You tryin’ to tell me you live on the South Side, Benjie?”

The hero stood shocked. No. Not shocked. Shocked was too simple, too austere. Ben was completely and utterly flummoxed. Not unlike that of the youth of the first war: fervent to be drunk upon the winnings and legends that came after, but ultimately shell-shocked at the realities that come with the title victor.

Who the hell wouldn’t lock their car?

Good neighbourhood or not, that was Kevin’s baby.

Discovery number nine: Kevin kept his car unlocked.

“I don’t have my keys I hope you know. And I don’t think my parents are home, either.” Ben said once they reached the front door. For emphasise, he jostled at the doorhandle and tossed a long, frustrated gaze over his shoulder at Kevin. Ben didn’t want to wait until his mother or father came home to be let inside. He was weary boned and beaten. Spent from the adjustment that came from waking from a coma. Short or not, coming out of any coma was hard. Not to mention his body was still thrumming with ache and the heaviness hadn’t left his limbs yet.

Discovery number five: Funny enough, being in a coma for two days was somehow, extremely exhausting. Who would have thought?

“Well, I don’t know about ya’, but I ain’t waiting out here until that happens.”

Whilst Ben cocked his head and ruled Kevin’s words as lacking any sort of real sense, the Osmosian dropped down to one knee. Absorbing matter was Kevin’s thing. Unlike a lot of things, it came easily to him. He was an Osmosian, after all. It’s what he did and had done since he was a boy. Take, absorb, whatever: same shit, different sink. So Kevin had no problem absorbing the materials from the Tennyson’s front door and using it to shape his finger into a key to correspond with the lock.

After that, it was basically child’s play to pick it.

“Tell me you’re not doing what I think you are doing?”

 _Click_.

“I told ya’. Use that head of yours, Tennyson.” Kevin gave a roguish smirk, one Ben was pretty sure he could only pull off, and swung the door wide open. “How’d ya’ think I got those clothes for you in the first place?”

Ah. Yes, his clothes. The ones he found in a bag by his bed when Kevin told him to get dressed all those hours ago. At first, he thought they were left to him by either his Grandpa Max or Gwen for when he woke. But when coming across the boxes that were packed in the bag, Ben knew that was not the case. Because only Kevin would find amusement in packing Ben his ‘I don’t believe in Aliens’ underwear after being attacked by an alien, while being an alien, while being shot out of the sky by his alien cousin. It also so happened to be the same pair of underwear Kevin had bought him for Christmas last year.

It was his only gift from the teen.

Which brought Ben to his second and tenth discovery since being out of his coma.

Discovery number two: Kevin kept a spare set of clothes for the three of them in case of an emergency.

Discovery number 10: In his spare time, Kevin liked to break into Ben’s house, and room, to steal his underwear.

_Oh, God._

“Oh, God.”

“Yeah, Benjie.” The older teen cackled like a fox, “ya’ should really clean your room more often.”

Ben didn’t think he could comprehend the reality of what Kevin was hinting too at the moment. He didn’t think he honestly wanted to. Jesus. The things he’d done in that room. The things he’d left carelessly around in that room. How many times had Kevin snuck in when Ben had gotten up late for school and in his haste to leave the house on time, left certain...things on the – holy fuck!

 _Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod_.

The brunet sucked in a deep, deep breath.

“You know what, dude?” Ben said, “I’m going to pretend this conversation never happened, and go to bed. I’ve saved the world too many times to have to deal with this shit.”

Ben chose not to listen to whatever remark Kevin had to offer as he began to scale the staircase. He was tired and already starting to undergo the severities of discovery number six. The brunet didn’t think he had to worry about allowing an ex-convict like Kevin to roam free within his the comforts of his own home. If the worst thing he could steal was a pair of stupid underwear, the hero didn’t see any harm in having the Osmosian hang out downstairs whilst he slept. Plus, if Kevin did get bored, he could just leave. If Kevin did not have a problem letting himself in, Ben didn’t understand why he would have one letting himself out.

The spring sun was starting to become a harsh beauty, even as it nestled between the blue and white of the sky, one could tell summer was at stalk by the threshold. Ready to scorch the gates of Bellwood with a battalion of sweltering and fevered heat. Hell was coming in form of summer in the next season, the brunet could tell. But that was a crisis for Future-Ben to worry and protest against, right now, Present-Ben couldn’t really care. All he wanted to do was get into bed, and never see the light of day ever again. Ben’s current blessing, however, was having a bedroom which was dim and cast in a cool ambiance. Almost as if in a childish indifference towards the midday sun. A small blessing. But one much appreciated by the hero, nonetheless.

Ben didn’t know how one would describe the way he crept into bed and slid between a pair of cool, navy sheets. Though, if given the chance, he’d say he didn’t know, didn’t care, and would like to go to sleep. Please.

Unlike that of the hospital’s bedding which was a stiff eggshell dye, and gave off a stinking perfume of bleach and disinfectant, his own sheets smelt of his cologne and home and other things he didn’t want to mention but happy to be surrounded by at the moment for the familiarity of it all. Days like these had Ben grateful he had something like a warm bed, blissful parents, and a nice house to come back to. It kept him sane. To know that no matter how badly he fucked up out there, or how many things changed out in a world so callous and inimical, everything at home, as well as his inner circle of loved ones, stayed the same. It was a good security blanket to have. A nice bubble to live in.

But that’s the thing with bubbles. They liked to pop.

Ben couldn’t recall falling asleep, but the whole ‘didn’t remember’ thing was really starting to grate on the last of his nerves. The hero did, however, remember what had woken him up in the first place.

A gruff, obdurate outcry.

 _Kevin_.

One advantage to passing out from fatigue was not needing to get dressed before stumbling upon your intruders as they may or may not be torturing your maybe-maybe-not-best-friend. Yeah. Ben didn’t know what Kevin was to him half the time, and probably vice versa. Best friend, friend, pain-in-the-ass? He wouldn’t know. Ben didn’t have a lot of friends. And Kevin, well, Kevin didn’t have a lot of friends that wouldn’t sell his ass out for some quick cash. So naturally, Ben would call Kevin his best friend considering they spent the past year watching each other’s backs and saving each other’s asses. The brunet would usually like to debate formalities such as these with the person so no miscommunication about their relationship status would occur. Then again, this was Kevin he was commenting on. And Kevin does not do talking. Not that kind of talking anyway. Because Kevin could talk and tease. Like talk shit and tease Ben about his shit. But not talk-talk.

He does, however, give a gruff, obdurate outcry when hurt.

So crap.

Kevin was hurt, or possibly worse – like bleeding out on Ben’s parent’s sixteen-thousand-dollar Italian rug – and Ben was having an inner debate whether or not it was appropriate to call him his best friend.

Jesus, some maybe-maybe-not-best-friend he was.

The hero didn’t give it a second thought as he raced down the stairs of his house to be at the aid of his… teammate. Hand itching to feel the dial of the Omnitrix tight between the ends of his fingers, Ben resisted the urge to Humungosaur the situation. He didn’t think he could make up a lie good enough to explain the dinosaur-shaped hole in his roof to his parents.

In the end, Ben was glad the natural fear he held of his parents had directed his plan of attack into a more rational one. For, as the hero staggered down on the last few of the stairs, he came upon a sort of infrequent but not unfamiliar situation. Whilst Kevin was not bleeding out on a very expensive rug, he was being fixed to Ben’s living room wall by the hot pink extremities of his grandmother’s manner.

Whereas it did not mean absolute danger, it still wasn’t the most superb circumstance to walk in on.

Plus. He didn’t think Kevin could breathe.

“Ben!”

The brunet didn’t have time to interrogate his grandmother’s rash actions as his ginger-haired cousin swathed him in her arms.

“I’m so sorry”, Gwen sobbed, and he knew she truly meant it. He could feel the wet of her tears dampen his shoulder: it contradicted the warmth and affection of her embrace.

Ben knew Gwen was apologising for putting him in a coma, but he couldn’t help but feel as if that wasn’t the only thing she was asking forgiveness for.

“Gwen. What the hell is going on?” Ben barked. Loving embrace or not, Gwen had let their Grandmother attack Kevin. That wasn’t very teammate-y of her to allow. “Verdona! Put Kevin down!”

Verdona gave her grandchild one of her careless leers, not taking Ben’s demands as the gospels he was trying to invoke in his voice.

“Hey, kiddo! So glad you could finally make it to the party!”

“This isn’t a game, Verdona!” The teenager threatened, letting go of Gwen and reaching for the Omnitrix. “Don’t think I won’t make you.”

“Grandma Verdona, listen to Ben. Please.”

The older Anodite wasn’t pleased with Gwen’s plead, Ben could tell by the tightness which drew her eyes into narrow slits. Though without another beg or demand, Verdona simply snapped her fingers and the rosy grip on Kevin evaporated. However, their Grandmother wasn’t the most civil of extra-terrestrial, and let the teen drop to the floor like a sack of bricks.

Ben hit the nail on the head before, because as Kevin convulse with the pressing need to reflate his lungs with air, he measured Verdona with a sinister glare.

Kevin really couldn’t breathe – wasn’t breathing.

“OK. That’s it, someone better start talking right now, or so help me-”

“Ben, calm down. I can explain and I promise there is a good reason for everything.” Gwen had that determined look in her eyes. The one Ben usually admired and trusted. But for the moment, with how aggressive Verdona had been, the hero questioned his cousin’s intent.

_That’s my Cousin._

It was true, Gwen was still his cousin. She deserved to have her side of the story listened too. No matter the hounding sense in Ben’s gut that he wasn’t going to like it one bit.

“Tennyson!”

The brunet snapped his head towards the sound of Kevin’s raspy voice. He sounded as if someone had forced him to swallow sawdust. It honestly stirred Ben’s faith in his cousin’s choices in a wicked and terrifying way. His belief in Gwen shouldn’t tremble at the sight of Kevin buoying by the wall, slightly battered and greedy for air.

Gwen was his cousin. His friend. His family. His blood.

Kevin was…

“What have I been tellin’ ya’ all day, Tennyson?” The Osmosian spat in a savage manner. “Use ya’ head, and think! Why else would your Looney Tune of a Grandmother be back in town? And why would your cousin be so calm about everything? Think about it, Ben. Think.”

There was a monster in Ben’s living room.

And he could feel it stalking in the dark of the room, the dark of his mind. Slinking through the shadows like it was one with the night. It was malevolent. It was malicious. It was malign.

Rapacious in its hunt, it wanted Ben all teary and raw.

With piercing teeth and black, serrated talons.

It was the thing that popped Ben’s bubble.

“…No…That’s not right…Gwen.” It was like his tongue didn’t fit right in his mouth anymore. Too fat with negation and turmoil to know what to do with itself. He couldn’t form his words correctly. “You’re not…You can’t – we’re a… team. Us. _US_. M-me, and, and you, and Kev – Kevin. You can’t…”

Gwen didn’t look at him this time as she spoke.

“I can explain, I promise.”

Discovery number eleven: His cousin was leaving him, Gwen was leaving him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personally, I felt as if I rushed the action there at the end a little bit, but guys are the audience. Tell me what you did and whatnot you dint enjoy. 
> 
> Thanks for reading,  
> N.N


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It finally clicks for Ben.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I’ve been a bit busy lately so I haven’t really checked up on how well this story was doing, but I must say I’m completely shocked. The sweet words I’ve been getting have really warmed away my writer’s block, so thanks for that. Anyways, as always, don’t be afraid to comment!

  
He never noticed before, but Kevin had a slightly crooked nose.

“Bullshit. This is you, runnin’ away.”

It wasn’t obvious.

“No, no. This is me, not being selfish enough to risk others and their safety. It’s okay, Kevin, I wouldn’t expect you to understand something like that.”

But if one were to study the rogue lines of Kevin’s jaw – unlike that of the crookedness of his nose, the older teen’s jawline was well defined – to the thin of his lips they would see how the cliff of his nose curved to the left instead of lining up kindly with the dip of his cupid’s bow.

“O, so that’s what this is, uh? A hero’s sacrifice? The great Gwen Tennyson saving the souls of the damned? Wake up! This isn’t a fairy tale, Gwen! There ain’t no hero or villain in this one. Just you, me, and Tennyson.”

Maybe it was the way his face drew tight to snarl at Gwen, which caused Ben finally to spot the trait? Or maybe it was how he glared down it when Gwen would creep too close in his space in their war of words. Either way Ben had to admit, it married well and true with his mischief charm – spilling rumor and word of his devious spirit. The bad boy you’d rather sneak through your bedroom window, and not the young gentleman who you would bring to dinner to meet your daddy.

“Stop being so stubborn, Kevin! You know after everything that has happened over the last few days this is the best option for me – for us!”

He wasn’t born with it, Ben didn’t think. Kevin didn’t have the kink in his nose when they were kids, Ben would have remembered. The brunet cocked his head like a bird on a wire: or was he?

“Come off it, Gwen! Be real. You wanna do this. Wanna go with her. All ya’ needed was an excuse, and what better one than knockin’ Tennyson into a coma!”

No. No, he wasn’t. It wasn’t the type of curved where it looked natural. It looked manmade. Knowing Kevin, it was probably shaped by blue knuckles and someone else’s crooked smile. Kevin liked to fight. Like the drunk taste of blood and ire and adrenaline between bared teeth or leering lips. Liked how at first the bruises bleached the skin with split wine, then with time, mixed a dye of blueberry blood until the bash imitated that of raging violet.

Kevin liked to get mean.

Gwen held a hand over the small of her mouth, caging a wounded gasp, “how could you say something like that?”

But sometimes Kevin got too mean.

“If there was anything – _anything_ – you could have done, anyone you could have gone to, to have stopped yourself from becoming that – that thing when we were kids…wouldn’t you?” The ginger’s words were bombs of swollen drear once having lost all its gunpowder and curse. “I don’t want to be like that – be like you, Kevin. I don’t want to lose control of my powers. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I could never…”Gwen cradled herself with the length of her own arms in a lonesome act, desperate to rid herself of the grief and grim which slugged in the in-betweens of her ribcage like capped bullets. Ben saw her face pale and pale and pale until he worried she was going to be sick.

Kevin sunk into himself with a heavy look upon his face. Yeah, Kevin got mean, but he also got sad.

“But you’re _Gwen_ ”, Ben said, his voice but that of a whisper. "You've always been the perfect, nerdy, know-it-all cousin of mine."

Gwen shook her head, “not this time, Ben. This time I hurt you.”

Ben wondered if what was poisoning the red of his blood was the same taste of toxic which had Kevin like that of a rabid dog as a child, and Gwen a rampant powerhouse only a few days before. Because now he was anything but a whisper, now he was a roar.

“Will everyone fuck off with that? It was an accident. An accident! It happened fucking once! Once, goddamnit! And now everything is wrong – wrong!”

Ben never understood the difference between what was anger and what was fury and what was rage. To him, it was the same thing. When you were angry, you were angry. When you were furious, you were angry. When you were raging, you were, again, angry. Angry. Angry. Angry. But now he knew the difference. And how big that difference was. Anger was all black coffee and paper-cuts, anger was enough to make someone go crazy, idiotic. Fury was a different breed, however. The smell of petrol and a shot of vinegar – fury was something of sour births and addictive upbringings, it made you go mad.

But rage – rage was something else, something horrific.

The stalk of a cat, a bargain between predator and prey, the grim reaper. Rage was something of delicious abruptness. It never boiled under the skin, never simmered between the cheek and tongue. It just seemed to suddenly be there..

It just happened.

Rage made you go psychotic.

“Breathe," Kevin said. “ _Ben_ , breathe.”

Ben didn’t understand. He was breathing. Swallowing so much air that his chest was like a balloon about to implode, stretched and tight and swollen.

But then Kevin used that god-awful tone, and the round of Gwen’s face was a sickly grey, and Verdona just sat there.

Dainty hands cupping the bottom of a steaming mug, the Anodite lounged gracefully in a chair as chaos poisoned the air. She didn’t bother with her own input or opinion with the situation. She just sat with lips all smug and knowing and casually drinking from her cup as she watched on.

She popped Ben’s bubble and looked on as everything came crashing to the ground like it was some kind of soap opera.

“You!” Ben snapped, “if it wasn’t for you, my cousin wouldn’t have these stupid thoughts in her head and everything would be okay! Get out! Get out, get out. I swear to fucking God, get out! You’re sick, Verdona. Sick! If you don’t get out of my house – my life! – I swear I’ll make you wish I was never born your grandson. Don’t you ever come near me or my cousin again, or I’ll make you regret it, you witch!”

“Ben, that’s enough!” Gwen said, her voice edging on ireful. “You can’t speak to Verdona like that, she’s our grandmother. And these stupid thought of mine never came from her, when you were – were…I was beyond worried, and just so many thoughts were going through my head. So I called her. Asked Grandma Verdona if she could do anything to help. And she can…and it’s not going to be forever, I’m coming back. I promise.”

Verdona gave the two bickering teenagers a cherry smile, “Gwendolyn is right, dear. Whilst I admit, I did try to get her to stay fresh and fun with me for more than just summer break, you two are my only grandchildren. All I’m here to do is help Gwendolyn. As well as you, Benjamin.”

Ben bared his teeth, not having any of his grandmother’s colored words. “That’s bullshit! I don’t trust you, Verdona. I can’t! If she goes with you, if Gwen stays with you over the summer break, you’ll trick her into staying with you for the whole seventy years it takes for an Anodite to develop their true powers!”

“O, come on, kiddo, lighten up!” Verdona teased, “and here I thought you were the fun one, Ben.”

“Grandma Verdona”, the ginger warned, seeing a feral mood simmer in the pits of her cousin’s eyes. “Please don’t antagonize him…I want him to understand. I want Ben to be okay with me leaving.”

Verdona’s scowls were always something that rubbed Ben the wrong way. His grandmother was always the type of woman to dance across a warzone with a playful leer, she rarely smeared the truth of her emotions upon her face. However, when she did choose to express a rather strong emotion, it was something violently raw and unsettling.

“I see.” The Anodite derided. "I best take my leave then. Seems like the life of the party is starting to die out. No fun in that."

“Thank you, grandma.”

“I’ll see you kids in four days, don’t miss me too much now!”

There was that familiar spirited tune to Verdona’s voice as she spoke and her mouth split into a grin much like that of the Cheshire Cat. She blew a sweetly sick kiss towards her grandchildren, almost teasing their twine thick relationship, and vanished in a flare of bursting hot pink.

Minutes melted with the stars and everyone left in the Tennyson living room was sunk in a timeless void of hush and laze. It seemed the fire in everyone’s bellies had left when Verdona did and no one craved to continue rioting about the evening’s events. Gwen had curled up in the corner of one of the recliners, fingers platting random, loose locks with some sort of misplaced determination until some strands held a lax curl. Ben, on the other hand, was bent in two on a separate lounge. He had his forehead resting on the bone of his knee and his eyes closed as he tried to nurse away a weak stomach. His parents would be disappointed with him if they knew he was wearing shoes on the sofa. They weren’t strict parents, but they did have their rules. They’d be arriving home soon. Ben didn’t want to be around when they did.

“Oi, Tennyson. Ya’ still hungry?”

Sometimes Ben wondered if Kevin could read minds. Of course that was ridiculous considering some of the offensive, carefree slurs that would come out of the boy’s mouth. It had gotten them into trouble more than once in the past. But still, he wondered.

Kevin himself was still idling by the wall Verdona had pinned him too. Even though Verdona herself had been long gone for quite some time, her mark on the Osmosian had stayed. The brunet winced at how loud the bruise was. It peeked just above Kevin’s collar and took form as a thick ring of bellicose purple, throbbing for attention. Split wine. Blueberry blood. He didn’t seem to mind. Kevin still wore it like a gold chain nonetheless.

Funny how he did the same thing with his slightly crooked nose.

**iIIi**

The metal of the bench was like the heart of a dead man. Stolen by the night and iced. The cool seemed to reach through the green of his jacket and licked at the base of his spine. It stung when he first lolled like a broken doll on the low-priced, metal table, tuckered out from yet another eventful, stressful day. But with the heat of summer creeping in, the chill was almost welcomed. The longer he stayed there, lazy with a mind lost down a road of fog and gravel, the more he felt the chill calm his soul, and draw the strain from out of his shoulders.

Kevin was right. Ben couldn’t breathe being in a room with Verdona.

He could breathe now, however. Being out of the house and away from his grandmother.

He could breathe and he could think. He could process Gwen's words and the situation. Everything.

Mr. Smoothy did wonders for his stress levels.

Ben couldn’t say he was surprised as a snicker ruptured from his throat. Trust someone like him to find nirvana lounging on the outside tables of a smoothie joint. It didn’t take long for the brunet’s smirk to die off though, with his mind clear, Ben had his river of thoughts building like a dam and threatening to break free as dreary tears. Gwen said she wanted to leave with Verdona. That she needed to leave with Verdona for summer break or longer.

Gwen was scared, Ben could see that. She didn’t enjoy her powers anymore. Didn’t trust herself with them, either. They had grown too great for her to control. Her Anodite side had become too dominant, too wild with need. And accidentally attacking Ben had pushed her over the edge. The red of her hair was much like the fire of her soul, Ben liked to believe. Gwen was an ambitious girl. Had the type of determination which scorched those to ashes id they were stupid enough to stand in her way. A stew of fretful thought, and unease, cooked in Ben’s belly at the thought of not allowing Gwen the chance to help herself and renew her powers. Not letting Gwen go with Verdona could also do more bad than good, too. The ginger's safety, as well as others, was at risk if Gwen continued to lose control, and that would ultimately be on Ben's hands if so. Ben putting his foot down could also damage the tight relation both he and Gwen build together as cousins and friends over the years, too.

That last one, the more selfish one, concerned Ben the most.

“Think fast, Tennyson.”

Ben moaned as something hefty and reeking of grease plunged into his exposed underbelly. The young hero curled into himself and tried to rub away the soreness which bloomed from the assault. Kevin, the jerk, had thrown the bag of goods extra hard and on purpose. Knowing that Ben, with his closed eyes and sluggish bones, wouldn’t be able to catch it on time. So while Ben grouched about being winded by Kevin’s carelessness, the older teenager was enticed to give a foxing leer at the brunet’s pain.

Now with a free hand, Kevin had no trouble multitasking between sitting down a tray of smoothies as well as shrugging.

“Told ya’ to think fast. Not my fault if you can’t think, Benjie.”

Ben was going to bite back, knowing too well that his pride wouldn’t be pleased letting Kevin get away with insulting his intelligence. But the aroma radiating from the brown paper bag had Ben reeling back in bewilderment. “Why’d you get me chili fries?” The brunet questioned with a cocked head, “I only gave you enough money for a smoothie.”

Without missing a beat, Kevin threw another shrug in Ben’s direction as he slid him a Smoothy, “I dunno, something about them givin’ away bad fries to any poor sucker hungry enough and stupid enough to take them. Thought of you.”

Ben knew it was a lie: the bag was warm and the fries themselves smelt appetizing, delicious – they were fresh. He also knew Kevin. And how Kevin didn’t really know how to comfort people. So instead of soft words and backrubs, it was small things like a bag of chili fries, or a smoothie or a silent ride out to the middle of nowhere to clear the mind to show that he cared. Ben was also pretty sure he had bought Gwen’s smoothie as well. But the way Kevin had tried to play it off told Ben that this was a we-are-not-talking-about-this-so-drop-it-Tennyson moment.

So maybe Kevin wasn’t always a jerk to him. Guess that made Ben a liar, too.

“Oh. Lucky me.” Ben knew how to play this game. It wasn’t the first time Kevin had shouted them food and not wanted to be acknowledged for his somewhat out of character good deed. “Where’s Gwen?”

“Bathroom or somethin’.”

“Oh…Okay cool, I guess.”

“Smooth, Tennyson.” Kevin teased as he played with his straw. “You’re a real wordsmith.”

"Whatever, man," Ben said, his mouth full of fries. It was a petty move, so to speak, talking with his mouth full. He knew it was one of Kevin’s pet peeves, something he wouldn’t have guessed if not for the disgusting sneers the raven-haired boy would give him as well as the occasional clipping on the back of the head to tell him to ‘knock it off, Tennyson'. "Got a lot on my mind."

Kevin stopped chewing at his straw and turned away from the brunet as the blues held him tight. And even though Kevin wasn’t much of a talker, he grunted at the back of his throat, understanding Ben’s inner turmoil. For he too had two wolves at war inside of his mind, confused in which of the two was the right one to feed, and which of the two was the right to starve.

The hero took a sip of his smoothie, it was chocolate and avocado, a new Mr. Smoothy combo. It was good, definitely in Ben’s top ten. So he took another sip, this time longer. “We just need to talk about this. Clear the air. For, a part of me thinks that she’s letting her fear control her. That she’s blowing this way out of proportion and being too…rash with a decision that will affect the whole team. We can’t let her go. She’s Gwen. I don’t want her to go. But another part, the less – umm, what’s that word Gwen uses to describe me?”

“Narcissistic?” Kevin answered, and annoyingly enough, the brunet knew he wasn’t trying to be funny.

Ben narrowed his eyes at the older teenager and bit: “I was going for analytical, but thanks for your help, Kev.”

The Osmosian knitted his brows, “Gwen has never described you like that.”

“You’re real shit with this whole talking thing, I hope you know. So just shut up and listen. Because whatever the outcome is, it will affect you too”, the brunet tried not to snap. Really. He promised himself he wouldn’t allow how he was truly feeling – the overwhelmed hopelessness – to color his speech and shake his voice. Ben took to rolling his straw between his teeth, a great distraction from the newly commenced conversation and the honey-hive that was his mind – always buzzing with thoughts these days. He knew he had subconsciously balled himself small and tight. With a slight hunch in his shoulders, and lips a pout, he looked like a child being told no for the first time. It was a bad habit, this little one-man show he was doing. It was something he had performed as a child when he was being scolded at by an adult for either getting into a fight (he always got his ass kicked, by the way, never winning a single one) or breaking something of worth.

Funny how right now he had done neither and yet, something in the conversation had triggered a bodily reaction from his childhood.

“ _Ben_.”

Ben took in a deep breath. Kevin had used that voice. Again. He’d stepped out of line. Kevin was actually semi-participating in the conversation for once and Ben was being an emotional dick about it. So instead of proving Kevin right, that he was just a child throwing a tantrum, Ben chose to persist unloading his thoughts in a civil way. “The less analytical side of me believes that Gwen should do whatever she feels is best for her. If she thinks staying with our Grandmother for summer break will help her get a handling back over her powers, well then, who am I to stop her? If I continue to act like I did when Verdona was about, how does that show Gwen that I want what’s best for her? That I trust her? But at the same time, how can I trust Verdona? She’s sly. Like a fox. What if she takes Gwen away from me – from us – forever? How can I let her go and know that that won’t happen?”

The younger teenager didn’t know if he should wait in anticipation for a reply or continue to rant to the brick wall that was Kevin in most discussions.

But Ben had never been a good waiter, it used to drive his parents insane at certain events when he was just a boy – still did on some degree. So, he stole a peek at Kevin. Determining that whatever emotion played the older boy’s face was what was going to make or break Ben’s decision.

Jade eyes clashed with the chocolate of Kevin’s and Ben found himself confused for what was not the first time that night, nor last.

Kevin was staring at him with a dumb look on his face.

“What?”

“You don’t even remember what happened, do ya’?”

It didn’t take a Galvan to know what Kevin was referring to.

“Of course I do.”

His voice projected confidence and even edged slightly upon offense. Ben acted as if Kevin had truly insulted him with the question. Maybe if Kevin wasn't looking him straight in the eye, he would have gotten away with the lie. Maybe if his body didn't recoil like he’d been struck and the white of his skin, dust with pink he could have foxed the other boy, fooling Kevin into believing he remembered the whole of the night of the accident.

"No, ya' don't," Kevin said a matter-of-factly, turning away from the hero as he shook his head in what almost seemed like disbelief.

Ben sunk further into himself at being caught out on a lie.  
  
_No. No, I don’t really. But I do remember how you called out my name. I don’t know why. But I do. And I can’t get it out of my head._

“If you can’t remember that night, no wonder you’re worryin’ about the wrong shit, Tennyson.”

Ben pinched his face in confusion for a moment. “And what does that mean?”

“Again. Think, idiot.” Kevin spoke as he lined up his empty smoothie cup with the trashcan a few feet off to the right. He was lining up to take a shot. “Two options. Meaning four outcomes. Two not-so-shitty. And two really shitty. Figure out what they are and see out of which you can live with.”

He hesitated once. Twice. A little bit on the third try but eventually, he took the shot. The cardboard cup clipped the rim of the trashcan in a clumsy fashion, with it came a gauche ding. On Kevin’s behalf, it was a careless shot. One absent in his usual bravado and teenage impetuousness. So he honestly deserved a careless result. What he didn’t deserve, however, was Ben’s immature snicker.

“ _Smooth, Levin_.” The brunet mocked, throwing back Kevin’s earlier jeer.

The Osmosian gave out a fractious groan. The new hero gig was a cute ace to have under the sleeve in many circumstances, but it also came with not-so-cute responsibilities. Like being a Good Samaritan and picking up after yourself. It was especially difficult to fall under the temptations of old habits when being fixed under Ben’s judicious gaze. Withal Kevin’s bemoaning it seemed to summon another to do it for him. Gwen had curved the corner of the building in time to witness both Kevin and her cousin’s childish dance.

Ben’s eyes lit up like December’s nights when spotting the ginger, “Gwen!”

He waved her over, pleased to see her sullen mood sharpen into something buoyant. A content smile blessed Gwen’s lips before making a show of placing Kevin waste in the bin. Ben didn’t miss the timidity which rose in Gwen’s body as she raised her hand in reach of the object – she was hesitant, in both the manipulation of her manna and the confidence in herself – only to forcible depower the rosy hue from her fingertips and pick up the trash manually.

Ben didn’t miss it, but he also didn’t draw attention to it.

“What are you guys talking about?”

Kevin and Ben shared a look, a visible discussion. Clauses and choruses were cross-wired and knotted through the dyes of their eyes. A misperception. Simultaneously and stupidly, the both decided to answer the redhead without further debate.

Kevin was nonchalant, “the game.”

Ben was restless, “you.”

Miscommunication was but an instrument of slapstick in their lives and the brunet was rewarded with an elbow to the ribs for it by the older teen. However, Gwen didn’t seem to mind either truths. She had promised them both she would explain her thoughts and actions. The reason for this mess.

"It is okay, Kevin," Gwen said. "We need to talk about this. I can't leave and not know what I am going to come back too if we end this on a bad note... Ben's right. We're a team. We need to make this decision."

"So", Ben began, hopeful. "You don't know if you're going or not?”

“No. I know that I need to go with Grandma Verdona, Ben.” Gwen’s ruby locks swayed as she shook her head at him. “I’m dangerous. I need her help and this is the only way.”

Ben’s face pinched. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear, “what are we discussing then, huh? Sounds to me like you already know what you’re doing, team discussion or not. So why are we here? Why am I wasting my time with this crap?”

Again, the young hero was flaunting his childish ways. It had the air between the three simmering like morning eggs.

"Tennyson," Kevin warned, a frown hung his lips. "If you ain't gonna cool it with the attitude, shut ya’ trap.”

The hero bristled, taken back by the Osmosian’s sudden shift in approach. It didn’t make sense. None of it. Kevin was on his side. He wore a collar of blue to prove it. He didn’t want Gwen to go, couldn’t bare it. He was the same as Ben.

_How can you be on her side? Why are you always on her side?_

Ben didn’t need an answer, he could see it in the way the two of them gazed at each other. It was a look of complete conviction and consideration. They talked with their eyes, building palaces with paragraphs and words with wonder. It was like they were sharing a secret agreement. Unlike Ben, Kevin and Gwen could always read one another like pages of a book. In return for such a trick, it had the hero’s eyes blazing olive and envy.

He never had that sort of connection with either teammate. No matter how many times he saved Kevin’s neck, or even if he and Gwen were blood relatives. Ben was like a misshaped puzzle piece, he just didn’t connect.

Kevin had gone all cream-soft on Gwen. Something he was not when they were back at the house. When the three of them were walled in by the Tennyson’s living room, the two of them had been at each other’s throats. Hungry for the other to submit. For a second, Ben wallowed in confusion. The turnings of tables and emotions were too much for him to handle. But then it started flowing back to the brunet, the reason for the sudden softness in Kevin’s eyes, the gratefulness in Gwen’s own. Kevin was going to fold. Going to let her go. It was all because of what Gwen had said back at the house – she made it personal, by touching upon Kevin’s unfortunate past; his childhood was their own form of Godwin’s Law. It was a low blow on her behalf, Ben thought. However, Kevin was the type of guy who gave as good as he got. He too had no issue playing dirty and getting a few shots below the belt. But when referring to what the raven-haired boy used to be – Kevin melted.

Unlike Ben, Kevin understood what being dangerous felt like. The fear you grow for yourself. It’s a terrible thing.

The ginger turned to her cousin, a plea between tooth and tongue. “Tell me, please, Ben: what’s going to destroy the team more? If I stay, or if I go? Because, right now, it feels like anything could tear us apart.”

It clicked in Ben’s mind. Finally. What Kevin had meant before, why Gwen was so stubborn with her decisions. It all made sense.

This wasn’t about him, nor his and Gwen’s relationship.

“Gwen.” Ben took Gwen’s quivering hands in his own. “You could _never_ kill us. Would never. You're a hero, you have a heart of pure gold. You could never do anything like that.”

Gwen was strung out on her beliefs that she could, or would, permanently and perpetually end one of their lives. Or all of them.

"We don't know that," Kevin spoke this time, his tone somber with reality.

"Please, Ben. Say you understand. I don't want to leave in a few days knowing you feel as though I don't care about everything that we have done over the last year." Gwen said, cupping the round of the brunet's cheeks. "The friends we've made, the lives we've saved, the wars we've won. All of that matters to me. That’s why I need to do this – I need to protect them, protect you and Kevin as well. So please, please tell me you understand why I have to go with Grandma Verdona for just a few months to do so.”

People had always told the Tennyson cousins that they had the exact same colored eyes. Ben would always beam something polite and gentle at the stranger, reiterating the lines of a self-made script telling the person how it was all thanks to their strong Tennyson genes which they shared. It was a lie, however, on his behalf and a dull-witted assertion on the strangers. Gwen's eyes were a crown of parakeet feathers: weightless and elegant, they were wispy when the redhead with at ease, and glowed with a formidable intellect when challenged. But at that moment, as they swelled with woe and wound, they darkened in color to truly match Ben’s. Dimmed with the fear of who she could hurt, and who she could kill, and if she could be stopped. If Ben made Gwen stay, he knew they would turn to ink as self-loath consumed her whole.

Ben had to let his cousin go.

"Yeah, I get it, Gwen, I really do. But you gotta come back. You can't forget about us."

“Ben. I could _never_.”


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Promises are like plates - sometimes you keep them and sometimes you break them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is in Kevin’s POV because I am the author, and the author is god. Plus, Ben is acting like such a little bitch and the I - author, God, whatever - can’t handle it anymore. But I need Ben to act like a little bitch because of this weird thing called character development and plot. Apparently, it’s this thing which good writers use to progress their stories. Weird, I know. 
> 
> Also, I want to give a huge thanks to everyone who has left me a comment, it is hugely appreciated and I love hearing what you guys have to say. It honestly motivates me to write more.

It was two-forty-five in the morning and Kevin was knocking rhythm with his knuckles onto the glass of Gwen’s window. He wanted to be inside already. The first few nights of May weren’t the coldest of nights, but they did still capture the late chill of winter come the fall of dusk. Gwen was showering. Meaning Kevin was to hang about the top of her roof until she saw fit for his entry. He felt like a dog. One on a leash too tight. If asked between which of the two Tennyson’s bedrooms he’d rather sneak into, Kevin would honestly answer, and argue, that it was Ben’s. Tennyson, unlike his redhead cousin, was loose with his rules. Kevin could basically come and go when he pleased and without the worry of needing to take off his shoes, or whether the brunet was bathing, or even if Ben was home or not; Kevin didn’t fret notifying Ben about his visits. Didn’t feel the need too. Gwen, however, was a completely different ballgame. Kevin was a bandit, a thug. He survived the aloofness that came with being a street rat and an arms dealer with a few dirty tricks and a lock picking tool. And yet, Gwen had her little book of charms which nullified seven years of knowledge that came with surviving out on the streets of America and whatever planet he found himself lost on; but with something as small as a finger snap, Kevin’s street smarts meant nothing. The protective barriers she had engraved deep upon the soil of the property would tell tales of his little drop-ins, and Gwen would have her teeth around his throat in no time.

So, he texted for approval, called for permission. Came when she said so, didn’t when she spat no. Dog, leash – you get the point. As tongue-biting as it was, Kevin did it because he respected Gwen. Respected her and her choices.

And while Gwen was tennis, Ben was football.

It wasn’t that he lacked respect for Tennyson, it was just that their relationship wasn’t one where respect was a main foundation or focus. Kevin forever held that he and Ben were partners in a dance of veracity and that their ballroom was one where the walls were replaced with rosevine until it was nothing but a partition of petals and thorns. Lose their beat, misplace their rhyme and they found themselves both pinpricked and red. Thus, to keep them both from bleeding bone-dry, they waltzed around this thing called trust and hoped for that the next song tasted something slow and gentle for their swayed-out souls.

No matter their disparities, Kevin always ended up some blooded and bleeding when dealing with the Tennysons. It irked Kevin how different yet incongruously similar the cousins could be at times. It also irked Kevin how he couldn’t stop noticing or comparing their differences, too. It had become somewhat of a habit of his these days.

“You can come in now,” Gwen called, her voice a tune higher than a hush, and like the good dog that he was, Kevin drew open the window and slipped in like a thief of the night; finally.

Kevin noticed many somethings upon entering the redhead’s chamber, one being the room’s familiar scent. Imbued within the air was the perfume of rosemary and thyme, cream and lime, and all things that were Gwen and more. More like her magic, Kevin liked to ponder – as that too gave off the trace of cooked rosemary and sage. It was a drolly thing, how one’s room could tell you more truth than any shorthand conversation with them could. Gwen Tennyson was a very ordered person (please do take note to how he said ordered and not neat). She had a place for everything, and Kevin could spy it from the pen upon her desk to the candles on the shelves. The room postured as an obedient soldier, and every object in it had a strict order on how to stand and where to be. The structure of the room told Kevin that Gwen wasn’t neat and pretty, but instead, methodical and divine. Much like Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom and military victory.

But placement was only half of the room. Other details about Gwen were buffed out by the design of the room. Peach and rose were the walls and bedsheets and youthful smiles shone through pictures and artworks on nightstands and bookshelves, it told of Gwen’s quirky personality and sympathetic mind. In the room you felt cared for and grounded – you felt safe and acquainted. Around Gwen, you felt cared for and grounded, safe and acquainted.

It was so unlike to Ben and the boy’s own room.

“You called,” Kevin stated, sloped by the desk.

Gwen haunted about the bottom of the bed, a restless air to her, “we need to talk. And we need to do it before I go tomorrow – _today_ , I mean. It’s important and it’s eating me up inside.”

Kevin straightened his back in an awkward and stiff manner. A voice, warm and teasing, tiptoed its mischievous way from the ends of his memories to the shell of his ear, purring and preening: _you’re real shit with this whole talking thing, I hope you know_. Kevin wasn’t good at talking, but talking is all the Tennysons ever did. One would like to think they would grow tired of it, that their lips would be too worn and torn to utter another word. But the art of talking seemed to be a never-ending canvas always in wait for the next exchange of colorful words to paint away the white of silence.

“Okay. So let’s talk…?” It was clear Kevin was uncertain and tentative for what was to come.

Gwen let out a visible sigh like she was half expecting the Osmosian to debate with her why the need to start a discussion was a fruitless one. “It’s about Ben.”

_Ben_.

Kevin felt the tightness within his form unwind and his shoulders hang at the mention of the boy’s name. He could talk about Ben. Ben was easy and known and familiar – like grasped knowledge. Ben was something Kevin was idiomatic in. The subject of ‘Ben’ was like being a foreigner in a land exotic and strange, and somehow, with fortune rare and warm, stumbling upon a soul not so exotic or strange, someone who held your own diacritical drawl, and someone whose tongue curled around your native word fluently. Talking about Ben was, to Kevin, mellifluous. However, talking to Ben was anything but.

“What about Tennyson?” Kevin couldn’t fool Gwen, the younger teen could hear the coo of curiosity within the lines of his words.

It troubled Gwen how chary and sober Kevin would be around her at times, and yet in the next beat be so boisterous with Ben, so blasé around Ben. The Anodite wouldn’t go so far to say she was jealous of her cousin, she had seen what his relationship – if you could have even called it that – with Kevin was like only a few months into their odd, three-lined partnership; and even more before that when they were just kids. It wasn’t gratifying.

But sometimes, during nights like these, Gwen longed for the means to drift from useless, placid banter and somehow, without much thought or fight, slip into a conversation all quiet and soft, but one also of great value and profundity. She’d had come witness to it the other night, while they were at Mr. Smoothy. It was the catalyst in her decision to whom she would ask to watch her cousin’s back while she, herself, was away and could not do so. But the sight of them so informal and loose around one another had something desirous spark green and hungry within her.

“Ben is _different_. Lately, he’s been more…Needy, sensitive. Afraid of change.” Gwen said, slipping her towel which had previously draped her head, to her shoulders and letting the wet of her locks drip-dry and make a mess of her clothes. “I’m going to be gone for almost four months, and I don’t know how he’s going to adjust to that. I need you to look out for him, Kevin.”

“I ain’t no babysitter.” Kevin snapped, “I’m not gonna hold his hand while you’re off with your Grams doing shit-knows-what. He will be alright, Tennyson has always been a bit bitchy, but he’s also the wielder of the Omnitrix. He don’t need me for nothin’.”

The redhead drew in her brows, “I’m not saying you have to be there every step of the way with him, Kevin. I’m just saying to keep an eye on him while I can’t. Ben gets too much sometimes, even for himself. He needs someone to ground him, keep him down to earth and remind him that he isn’t just a hero, but also a fifteen-year-old kid. I mean, you already sort of do it now, you have some weird mind control over him when it comes to some things. I just thought it would make sense to ask you.”

“Whaddaya mean, ‘sorta already do it now’?” The question on Kevin’s tongue packed a punch, one Gwen wasn’t expecting to hear in the boy’s tone.

“You know,” Gwen said, “the whole ‘ _Ben_ ’ thing.”

“I don’t know what ya’ mean and I do not sound like that.”

“Yes, you do.”

The dark of Kevin’s eyes held the light of Gwen’s at gunpoint. They both could feel it, the tension souring the air. Gwen had overstepped with her teasing, something she always managed with Kevin, yet something her cousin’s own coy verses could never. It was unfair.

“No, _Gwen_ ,” Kevin said, low and measured. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t play dumb, _Kevin_.” The redhead spat, her words just as baneful as her friend’s. “You know the minute Ben steps out of line you’re there to put him back in his place and level out his head. He listens to you, and it’s a good thing. So, why are you so scared of that?”

“I ain’t got nothin’ to fear.” There was a hiss in the Osmosian’s speech, like that of a snake set to strike: a warning. “It’s _you_ that should be scared.”

Gwen softened her gaze, refusing to pin the boy with such a cynical look after processing and comprehending what Kevin wasn’t saying instead of what he was. “Oh, Kevin. It won’t be like that. You wouldn’t…You’re not like that anymore. You’re not evil. Not bad. You wouldn’t use mine or Ben’s trust to do something evil or bad. Not after all the good you’ve done.”

This was why Kevin hated talking. One minute you’re breaths away from orally maiming a person and the next, blinking away tears of frustration and vulnerability. It was all just too much to contend with in one night.

“Yeah well, you ain’t no fortune teller.”

The words in their mouths became fat with whiskey and gin after that, and the silence that swam about their ears did nothing but drink itself drunk on the taste of it all. During this time, Kevin had discovered that silence was a thing of concocted sound. It was a moan and mutter, a thunder and fuss, a bellow, a hello and everything that was a cocktail of clattered chaos. It was madness, and they just sat in it. Gwen, curled on her bed, thawing at the sound of nothingness, her mind a hum-buzz of thoughts, and Kevin, ass nailed to the window seal, pulsing with an addict’s need to hold a stretch of Tabaco between his fingers.

The strokes of the bedside table clock became a handful of seconds and a handful of seconds befell a sea of minutes and a sea of minutes ensued an endless hour until the cries of silence grew too much for one of the teenagers to grip.

“Hey, Kevin?” Gwen sounded a milky-tired, the type where your eyelids melted closed by the time three cuckoo passed the cuckoo clock, and you were rocking by a dying fire, nursing a cooling mug with the bowls of your hand. “Do you…do you think we could be something after this? After I come back from Anodyne, with my powers under control, that we could try this thing between us? For real?”

“Don’t start that now, Gwen…” Kevin whispered.

“You know how I feel, Kevin. About you. About us. I just want the truth. Do I carry on hoping that something will happen between us until the end of summer break? Or do I try and get over you while I’m away?”

“I don’t know.” It was an earnest answer, gentle in its tone and it wrapped around Gwen like a warm blanket. “I don’t know how I feel about you – _us_ …Not yet, anyway.”

“You think you’ll know by the time I get back?” Gwen asked, peering up at the raven-haired boy with propitious eyes; they blushed a dreamlike, fairy-green in the hanging moon’s hue. “Because I don’t think I can keep dancing around what I want, Kevin…”

“I know.”

“So, will you promise to give me an answer – a real answer – when I return?”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll promise.”

Gwen grinned fondly at her friend, “and Ben? Will you promise me that, too?”

Kevin made a face, ready to reopen fresh wounds that had healed over their silent hour. But Gwen chose to continue with a certain mix of words that made Kevin’s world fill with sand.

“Come on, Kevin, it’s Ben. Can you just promise me that you’ll have his back? That you’ll promise to be patient with him, gentle with him?” First, she questioned, then she teased. “You promise you’ll keep him from being corrupted?”

Somehow, Kevin found himself struggling to agree with that promise more than the other. It felt as if he had a broken hourglass confined to the space within his throat. And it poured and poured, spilling its guts more and more down his gullet as the seconds slipped by. Kevin was choking on time turned golden and fine. He should have said no. Shouldn’t be promising something he didn’t intend to keep – knew he couldn’t keep. But a beach had inhabited the gaps between his teeth for the time being, and it was hard to say no to something between mouthfuls of seawater and sand. So, Kevin bobbed a gentle nod.

“Promise.”

It tasted like ruin and went down like wreckage. A damaged and bruised thing the minute it formed upon his tongue, and broken and blue thing the next when it left his lips. The only thing Kevin had promised the redhead was a reneging future.

And he did it with a smile, too.

**iIIi**

Kevin had several unhealthy habits, one of which being his godawful smoking tendency. It wasn’t a religious act, he made sure of that. Taking certain measures so that it didn’t develop into a true addiction, only needing a quick hit when things got too stressful during the days, and when sleep evaded him during the nights. He had his limits: one or two during an episode, and only three or four episodes during a week. Anything more and he forced himself to tough it out like the big boy that he was. He had seen people, true addicts while living out on the streets as a brat. It horrified him to what lengths they would go too for a fix, a quick hit. Images and memories of what those people would become before and after they picked their poison haunted all ends of his eleven-year-old mind, and even his current mind. He didn’t want to be like them, like an addict. So, he made his limits and followed them as if they were gospel. He was firm and willed himself to stay in such a frame of mind. But Kevin also had other… Habits, as well. Ones where he was lenient more towards their temptations and briberies – he fed them fat and full on faintness and turned a blind eye to their detrimental deeds. These habits were a rancorous kind. A self-destructive kind. A delicious kind. Better in taste to a glass of whiskey, and honeyed the soul sweeter than a line of white, it even touched upon the breath gentler and more lavish when compared to a cigar.

Kevin had a habit of shining a light of perfection upon Ben when any thought of the boy came to mind. To Kevin, there was no wrong the brunet could truly do. Ben was the wielder of the Omnitrix, a true hero. A good guy in general. And while Kevin also didn’t believe it was healthy to idolize anyone in such a way, this habit was one of those _Other Habits_. And Kevin liked the idea of Ben being this symbol of righteousness in his mind. It was addictive, the thought – though not like good wine, it was more like coming up for a breath of air after being underwater for so long, too long; you couldn’t seem to get enough. Knowing that he had someone in his life like Ben, who couldn’t really do or be anything bad, was fixating.

But then Ben did something once in a while that tainted his perfect image, the one which Kevin had built within his head. Because at the end of the day, Ben was still a teenage boy: he was cocky and brash, filthy and forgetful, petty and temperamental and beyond dense at times that Kevin wondered how the brat even managed to tie his laces most days. The older teenager sometimes questioned his mental stability when reality broke and the hero’s childish flaws appeared, for Kevin couldn’t really think someone like Benjamin Kirby Tennyson was perfect. Because Ben was a lot of things but perfect wasn’t one of them. Like being the perfect boyfriend, something Kevin knew Ben wasn’t since he was a _terrible_ boyfriend. Something Kevin thought Julie would agree with.

“I can’t believe you were in a coma and didn’t tell me!” Julie cried, shoving Ben across the pavement.

“Julie, watch it”, Ben whined, like a pup. “If I drop any of Gwen’s suitcases, she will kill me!”

But hey, you know what they say: old habits die hard, and when all's said and done, Kevin’s going to somehow find himself slipping back into that old mindset.

The Osmosian watched from afar, two of Gwen’s suitcases in his own hands as the love-birds squabbled and bickered like children on the sidewalk. After their talk, the redhead had asked if Kevin would stay as she packed away the rest of her room and keep her company so that she was not alone in the gloomy act. He did, and they spent the rest of the night reminiscing of their year together on a team while listening to Lana Del Rey, one of Gwen’s favourite artists. It was a sweet night, one calm and still and full of soft laughter and memories. A good note to leave on and one Kevin wouldn’t think he could share with Gwen. Small talk wasn’t really Gwen’s forte.

By the time Ben had shown up with Grampa Max and the Rustbucket in tow, Gwen had asked both he and Kevin to carry her belongings to the front lawn while she was off saying her last goodbyes to her parents and brother. During their labour, Julie had floated in to join their farewell gathering, much to Kevin’s surprise considering he didn’t think that the little blackbird and Gwen were all that close.

“That’s what you’re worried about? Suitcases! Shouldn’t you be more worried about all the stress you’ve been causing me? Considering I am your girlfriend!” The girl crossed her arms, moving in front of Ben’s person to block his escape. “Or did you forget that too? Like how you forgot to reply to my texts or answer my calls!”

“C’ mon, Julie. I’ve been busy!”

Kevin frowned. He could tell this was going to get ugly, quick; Ben was scowling and Julie had gone red in the face. “Oi, you two! Would ya mind havin’ your lover’s quarrel some other time?” The older teen sorted for the boy’s eyes, attempting to communicate the importance of today’s event and for Ben to not disagree with him with his dark, walnut ones. Ben didn’t seem to catch his drift.

The hero pouted, turning to his friend with a mouth full of fight; “But Kevin –”

Kevin wasn’t having any of it, “ _Ben_.”

The Osmosian’s tone was one of pure gravel. It was like his voice was forged from granite and stone, and it caused the brunet to give a visible flinch at the roughness of it all.

Ben cast down his eyes, his stomach-turning. “We’ll talk later, Julie. Sorry.”

Ben didn’t give her a chance to debate about his decision, as Kevin took off to complete the task Gwen had given them, the hero was quick to lick at Kevin’s heels with his own eagerness to make a getaway.

Abandoning the pastel-colored bags on the ground, Kevin threw a salted remark over his shoulder at the younger teen. “Don’t know ‘bout you, Tennyson, but I don’t think your cousin deserves this shit on this particular day.”

Kevin wasn’t lying before, he did – still does – see Ben as perfect, just not the type of perfect where the person was faultless and without mistake. Ben could make his missteps, and often did. But what truly made Ben perfection in Kevin’s eyes was how genuinely kind-hearted the boy was all of the time. Ben didn’t have a bad bone in his body, and he wasn’t one to do things purposely to upset someone. Something Kevin himself struggled with at times.

“I know, and look, I’m sorry. Really.” Ben was messing about with one of the zippers of Gwen’s bag. He felt guilty, the Osmosian could tell by the way the hero folded in on himself. Ben sighed, and for the first time that morning, Kevin could see days-old exhaustion trickle into the brunet’s expression. Peering up at Kevin with big, doe eyes, Ben gave him a spent promise. “I’ll get Julie to calm down, okay? I want Gwen to have a good farewell too, you know.”

Kevin nodded, voicing his acknowledgment. But he didn’t look into the meadow of Ben’s eyes as he said so. He couldn’t, not without seeing drear and drowse effervesce deep within them. It would tempt Kevin to question Ben’s sleeping habit over the past few days, something which he didn’t want to draw attention too at the moment. It wasn’t the time or place to discuss such things. It was a silent agreement among everyone – _but_ Julie it seemed – that today was one not for tears or disputes, but rather easy-going smiles and spineless goodbyes.

“Quick you’re poutin’, Tennyson. Show’s ‘bout to start.” Kevin said, jarring his chin to where Gwen was crossing towards them, something bulky and blue in hand.

“What’s with the weird camera?” Ben questioned.

“It’s a polaroid.” Kevin corrected. “Haven’t seen one of those in years.”

Gwen was beaming, though it was bittersweet in Kevin’s opinion. “Thought we all could get a picture together,” Gwen said, waving the camera in their faces. “I heard it’s what normal friends do.”

“Sweet! Pass it over, I want to get my good side.”

“‘Good side’ my ass, Tennyson. You touch that thing and you’ll break it.”

“Guys.” The redhead Snickered, “ _I’m_ taking the picture. It’s my camera. Now be quiet and get in.”

They knitted their arms together and over shoulders to fit inside of the camera’s frame. Gwen was at the end to take the shot, and Ben, being the egocentric brat that he was, was pinched between his cousin’s slim side, and Kevin’s solid one in the middle; something Kevin didn’t find much pleasure in considering the brunet had his elbow lodged sorely between a set of ribs. Gwen stretched out her arm, angling the Polaroid the best she could to capture the moment.

“Don’t be such a baby, Kevin. _Smile_.”

There was a flash of white too bright for Kevin to come up with something witty to say. After a few quick seconds, the grinding sound within the device stopped and the mouth at the front of the camera spat out a single, glassy black picture. While another smile flickered upon Gwen’s face as she snatched up the photo to shake about, a frown soured her cousin’s as he poked and pried at the blue Polaroid.

“Hey, boys!” The Anodite said, her voice touched with bliss. “Come see how good it turned out.”

When spying down at the palm-sized snapshot, Kevin couldn’t help but agree with his friend. They looked good, they looked happy. Gwen herself had a rather handsome smile paint her mouth, with the round of her cheeks tapering her eyes, and Ben was shooting down the camera with his hotshot grin, the green of his eyes buzzing with emotion. Kevin gave a slugger’s leer, one that matched well with his roguish charm. However, unlike the Tennyson’s, Kevin hadn’t fixed the Polaroid’s lends with his smile, nor the dark of his eyes which glowed like a crackling, winter’s fire. His focus was taken by his two teammates, and how, after all these days, they finally held some rhapsody between spread lips. It was a good picture.

“What? That’s it?” Ben moaned, “It only gives you one picture?”

Kevin smirked at the hero’s dimwittedness, “It’s a polaroid, Benjie, not a mama rabbit. One’s all we gettin’.”

“Not cool, I wanted one!”

There was a hoot of laughter similar to that of the Cheshire Cat behind the gathering of teens. Startled, the team jumped apart to survey their surroundings. One out of three of the teenagers smiled at who their chuckling assassin turned out to be.

“Grandma Verdona!”

“Gwendolyn!” Verdona grinned, wrapping her arms around the redhead. “Long time no see, kiddo. Finally bored with humanity and ready to join the real party?”

Gwen was quick to correct her grandmother’s wording, but the older Anodite didn’t seem to take her all that serious. Verdona was the Tennyson wildcard, even an outsider like Kevin could see that. Kevin liked to think that the older woman’s appearance didn’t do much to him these days, but he couldn’t help how his fingers wandered across the stonewashed yellow that wrapped his neck. It seemed as if the Osmosian wasn’t the only one on guard with Verdona around to play, Kevin could feel the tension rise and straighten the dip in Ben’s shoulders once his eyes spotted his Grandmother. For a minute, Kevin worried if Ben was going to blow a fuse at hearing Verdona’s playful yet insensitive words.

“Grandma,” Ben said, calling the Anodite’s attention.

Gwen and Verdona broke away their frisky conversation and turned to the brunet. Verdona, much like the rest of the Tennyson Team, were shocked to have heard Ben address the Anodite in such away. The stunned expression which ironed the wrinkles out from Verdona’s features did not last long as she danced over towards her grandson, a grin splitting her lips wide enough to have the joyful-creases return back to her skin.

Lurking just about the brunet’s person, Verdona addressed Ben in kind. “Yes, my dear grandson?”

“I want to apologize…For the other night. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I’m sorry.” Ben gave his grandmother a sheepish pucker but looked her straight in the eye as he expressed remorse for his behavior. He may have stepped out of place the other night, but he still wanted to make Verdona understand that she couldn’t fox her way about snatching up Gwen from right under her Grandson’s nose. “But I am serious, Grandma Verdona. If you don’t bring back my cousin by the end of summer break, I will come to get her myself. And I don’t think you will want that.”

Ben thought she was going to laugh in his face, snort at his misplaced bravado. Instead, she did something quite grandmotherly. Placing a gentle, yet firm hand upon the hero’s shoulder, Verdona lectured Ben with the kind of respect he thought he would never achieve from her. It was the type of regard she gave Gwen for having the Anodite spark.

“Alright, Ben. You have my word. I’ll bring your cousin back to you, you’ll see.” She patted the small amount of stubborn baby fat Ben stilled carried in his cheeks, then ducked herself low to whisper in the boy’s ear. “Just like your Grandfather, you are. Speaking of which…”

Verdona cast a tender look over Ben’s shoulder to the man watching on as his wife pirouetted about the youth. It was a shared glance, one which hallowed out Kevin’s gut with all its true rawness and profound depth of emotion. It was a look of pure love. A kind of love was the expensive kind – and so old it was ageless. Their love was like a bank, instead of gold coins it was kisses, and instead of dollar bills, it was whispered I love you. They kept it locked away tight in a vault and never to be known by any other just how rich in love they were. It was a love which out-timed humanity by eons and made the Gods blister green with envy.

“Max,” Verdona whispered.

“Verdona.” Max rumoured back.

It was the only time they addressed each other, but Kevin could tell, it was much more than a few words to them.

When it was Kevin’s turn to be acknowledged, all that gift-wrapped love was tucked back away and Verdona’s signature leer was the only thing shining. “Ah. Our moxie little Kevin, still kicking I see.” The Anodite cried.

Kevin forced a smile, “scary Grandma Tennyson.”

There was no more small talk after that, everyone knew it was Gwen’s time to go. And Gwen, being the kindhearted girl that she was, made her rounds and said her final goodbyes. It was her parents first, her mother cried tears and her father kissed her cheek. Then it was her brother, Ken, and he pulled at her hair telling her what a beautiful little sister she was, even if she could be bossy at times. After Ken, it was Grandpa Max of course. Max gave her the longest hug and told her to stay out of trouble while on another Planet. Julie was next, a short hug and a see you soon was more than just appreciated between the two. By the time it came to Kevin’s turn, he felt awkward and didn’t know where to put his hands.

“You remember our promise, right?” Gwen breathed into his ear as they embraced.

“Yeah.” Kevin sighed, “and I will, so don’t ya’ be worrin’.”

Kevin was happy to have drawn out a small, yet full laugh from his friend.

The interaction which took place between Gwen and her brunet cousin was something Kevin wasn’t expecting. At first, they didn’t even reach forward to hold each other, instead just staring at the other with glassy, green eyes. Than Gwen did something odd, something which had Kevin’s eyebrows knotted up. She shoved her baby blue Polaroid into the middle of Ben’s chest, a devious smirk playing her lips.

“I want you to have this while I am away.”

“Why?” Ben said, his voice crackling with swallowed sentiment. “It's your camera.”

Gwen gave him a sad smile, “Because, Ben, I want you to have a real summer break for once. I want you to be a normal teenager and take normal teenage pictures of everything you do. So, when I get back, you can tell me all about your summer and have a bunch of cute Polaroid pictures to show me as proof. It’s what you deserve.”

“So do you.” The brunet choked.

“I know,” Gwen said softly, and Kevin strained his ears to hear what she said next. “But this is more important. Can you just take it easy for me this break and document everything you do – please? I want to know what my dweeb of a cousin gets up to while I’m not around to take care of him.”

“Only if you promise to do the same on Anodyne.”

“I will, Ben – promise.” Both of the Tennyson cousins smiled this time as they tied their pinkies together in a childish act of oath-taking. It wasn’t long after that, that Gwen set her claws deep into Ben’s shoulders and dragged him into a chest-crushing hug. The cousins stayed like that for quite some time before Kevin spied Gwen slipping something flat into the pocket of Ben’s iconic 10 jacket. Tennyson didn’t seem to spot the hand, too consumed by their loving embraces to stress about such trivialities.

“Come now, Gwen. Times are ticking.” Verdona sung from across the front lawn, she was now standing by the collection of Gwen’s suitcases, eager in their leave.

The cousin’s separation felt forced, and Gwen had to dry her eyes with the back of her shirt sleeve. Even with her eyes a teary green, the redhead still beamed at her closest friends and family and waved once the last goodbye as she joined her grandmother. Much couldn’t be said after that as the two Anodites vanished before them in a burst of pink.

No one dared to move for a long time once the pair had departed, and for some reason, the air among the remaining Tennyson family and friends felt more dense with them gone. But as each second flickered by, Kevin felt the discussed bravado slowly drain from out the souls of every person who came to say their goodbyes to Gwen, even he felt the strength in his body take off with the wind. Ben, however, was the first to break. His shoulders jerked violently as he whined and whimpered around broken sobs, and fat tears hung like dead-men from off his chin as his misery finally collapsed and down-poured from out of the corners of his eyes. It was an almost silent death, the one in which his heart was nursing, but also a fierce one at that.

So, Kevin did something he would never admit too; not to a living man, not to a dead man, not to Gwen, not to Ben, and most certainly not to himself. But still, his denial didn’t stop his mind from memorising the feeling of Ben’s hand in his own as he gave the boy some support in his loss. And, with the warmth of Ben’s trembling hand wrapped in his, Kevin thought that maybe, just maybe, he could keep his promise to Gwen, and be a positive force in Ben’s world for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally I can get on with the gay. Also, can ya’ll list me any good songs which you might think Kevin or Ben would listen to? Because I honestly can’t. And I feel like a terrible author because I lowkey need it for a future chapter...thanks!


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. I did a thing. Wow, it feels amazing to post again. I just want to say thank you to all who have left kind words and more, you really helped me get through this large chapter (which you all deserve considering the ridiculous wait). Some things I want to discuss before we drive into it:
> 
> If you didn’t know, I’m from Australia and currently in my last year of high school - so, yes, they’re might be month-long gapes in my posting, I apologise in advance. Secondly, this chapter was supposed to be longer but I had to cut it short because no matter what, I always made the end too steamy and/or...smutty. Answer I know that’s what 78% of you are here for but, my dudes, the time will come. I promise. However, that time is not now. So I apologise for the rough end. 
> 
> I would like to thank i+am+not+sane for their song ‘Work Song’ by Hazier as one of many amazing song recommend! If you couldn’t tell from my writing, I may fallen in love with the song itself! Don’t worry, I have already assigned may other song recommendations by different readers to certain chapters. 
> 
> Also, I would honestly love to hear your opinion on how I implement the song into the chapter. Obviously, each song will be written differently and incorporated in its own original way, but please do tell me if you would rather I hold back on the lyrics and just name the song, or if I should cut out some of the description relating to the song itself. I’m open to anything.
> 
> Well, I deeply hope you all enjoy this chapter and you might want to pay extra close attention considering this chapter is full of foreshadowing for much later chapters within this fanfic. 
> 
> P.s Sorry for the OOC, and don’t, bitchy Ben will come to a close soon. I’ve I’m getting tired of his bratty ways.

Ben had discovered something strange in the first few days of Gwen’s leave. It didn’t strike him until he was hunched over the dining room table playing with his peas; Ben, being the easily bored boy that he was, was awfully lonely without his dweeb of a cousin around to keep him company. It began gathering around midday, this formidable and fresh something, and Ben had just entered fourth period English to find that his class were to be studying the ‘classic’ Shakespearean play, Romeo and Juliet. Ben wanted to laugh. How cliché could his school get. Given, Ben didn’t know much about any other play composed by the renowned writer, he knew for sure that Gwen would get a kick out of it. Unlike Ben, Gwen attended a high school pronounced for its pristine and privately paid education. A play as simple and well known as Romeo and Juliet was something expected to have been taught and studied in middle school. So, Ben was quick after class to diel his favorite cousin’s number to share the hilarious news (truthfully, it was a subtle call for help. Ben was good at many things. Being a hero – a good looking hero, might he add – was obviously one of them, however, decoding archaic plays was defiantly not. So yes, while he wanted to ring his cousin for a good laugh, a helping hand was also something he hoped to get out of their cousinly chat). It wasn’t until he heard the softly spoken words of Gwen’s voicemail did Ben’s world seem to shift back into reality. And the truth of reality seemed to be an art practiced in the frost of solitude. 

  
Ben rode his bike home with a wintered heart that day. He found it hard to understand why he was so heavily hung with the blues. Yes, the matter of Gwen’s leave was a depressing one, especially considering the part Ben did play in her final decision. Gwen hadn’t even been gone a full week, yet, Ben felt as if the hands of misery had begun to pick apart the threads of his world until it was coming undone by the seams with each day his cousin wasn’t by his side. However, by the time the clock had chimed for dinner, it was only during idled mouthfuls of steamed potatoes and pork chops did the young hero fathom the emotional blizzard rioting around his head. It wasn’t just that he missed Gwen, Ben was generally lonely without his cousin. The last few days had been some of the most isolated of his life and Ben didn’t know how to recover from such a lonesomeness. 

  
Ben wasn’t good at being lonely. 

  
“Did you have a good day, sport?” Carl quizzed. His father wasn’t a stupid man, rather thick at times, yes, but never truly daft. He knew the slouch in his boy’s back was one done by a heavy day of worries. But Ben was a teenager now, so he was less inclined to spill his stresses to his father – more so than ever these days it seemed. In spite of that, a gentle push here, and some innocent questions there shouldn’t be enough to make the boy shut down completely. 

  
Ben shrugged, picking at his peas, “I guess…” 

“O, cheer up, honey.” His mother smiled at him from across the dining table, “school can’t be that bad. Besides, in a few short weeks it will be over and you’ll be on summer break. And lets not forget about the Family Cruise coming up in a month. Aren’t you excited for that?” 

  
The brunet sunk deep within the wood of his chair, the need to flee from the warmth of his mother’s blissfully unaware grin thrummed in the marrow of his bones. “About that…” Ben trailed off, his confidence forsaking him like a staved dog. 

  
The mood of the conversation touched differently now, no longer something gentle and light in the air, and Ben was sure that whatever was discussed next would end in blood – his blood. Sandra, his mother, was quick to have arched an eyebrow high up at him, and her face was slowly pinching by the second. She didn’t look impressed, rather, Sandra looked as if she was told to bite into an apple only to discover that it wasn’t an apple at all, instead it was a lemon and that she had been shamefully fooled. And that was only because of two little words. Ben sighed; he didn’t need this sudden fretfulness ruffling his feathers. He wanted to be strong, confident, cucumber cool. Ben didn’t want to feel guilty for disrupting half a years’ worth of his mother’s hard planning. Despite that, it couldn’t be helped. Ben had responsibilities his parents couldn’t grasp. Christ, Ben couldn’t comprehend them himself half the time, let alone his folks. 

  
“I’m not.” Ben fumbled over his words, he didn’t know whether it was to do with his mother’s piercing glare, or because of the pork chop he just stuffed into his mouth. So, he swallowed tenderly, testing for which of the two was the culprit. An elimination technique Gwen had taught him to use when he wasn’t sure of the correct answer on a multiple-choice question sheet. Trial and error. “The trip. I mean, on the trip. I’m not coming.” 

  
Shocking to no one, it was for sure his mother’s disapproving scowl.

  
“What do you mean, Benjamin?” 

  
“Well…” Ben begun, struggling to correctly articulate his argument. “If I do go, we’ll be gone for most of the summer break, and I just don’t think I can afford that at the moment. You both know that my grades aren’t the best – plus, we did just start Shakespeare today in English, and mum, you know how hopeless I am at English to begin with – and with Gwen visiting Grandma Verdona, I don’t really have anyone to help me with my school work – which, I’ve been getting a stupid amount of lately. And I don’t want to slip any more behind than I already am, so I thought that this summer break I could focus on my…ehh, studies more. And I can’t really do that if I’m cruising around Europe for the whole break, right?” 

  
It was a lame excuse, and a poorly put one at that. And, it was complete and utter rubbish, too. Ben didn’t give two shits about trying to improve his school grades (much to his parent’s displeasure), he’s true reasoning for not wanting to participate in his family’s getaway was because of the responsibilities he held as Master of the Omnitrix. He couldn’t just leave Bellwood for almost two months for a family vacation, not only was that downright irresponsible, but Ben would also be leaving Grandpa Max alone in the defense against any alien uprisings or diabolical universal domination from evil Over Lords. Besides, if Azmeth found out that Ben was away on vacation while the possible universe was being destroyed, he was sure that the Galvan would have an aneurism (was that even physically possible?). It was comical that Ben could go toe to toe with a psychopathic War Lord like Vilgax, yet shy away like a child from his mother’s ridiculing. 

  
‘Hell hath no fury as a woman’s scorn… or whatever’, right?

  
Then again, the difference between Ben’s mother and Squid Head was that Vilgax had the power to kill him and take over the universe, his mother, on the other hand, could do much, much worse – she had the power to ground him. 

  
“Benjamin Kirby Tennyson.” His mother’s eye twitched in a worrisome way as she addressed him. “You mean to say that you would rather miss out on a lifetime opportunity to travel around Europe with your parents…to do homework!” 

  
“Umm…Yes?” 

  
His mother pressed her index finger and thumb to her temple and carried on with a rubbing motion. Ben slouched himself in his chair, guilt skinning the hunger in his belly like a dead hare, stripping him of his want for his father’s famous barbequed chops. It was hard not to feel guilty, even after his own mental pep talk. Though when spying his mother’s ached scorn, and his father’s disappointed frown, guilt emptied a chamber into his chest like a drunk hunter aiming for the heart. Ben wished he could tell his truth, the real reason for not being able to accompany them on a trip they have both been so excited to attend. Before coming to his senses, Ben too found himself on cloud nine at the thought of travelling around Europe with his parents, missing the stable familiarity intimacy he once had with them. 

  
Sandra and Carl Tennyson wanted their son to be a good boy. Ben on the other hand, just wanted them (and the universe) to be safe. It was a constant tug of war between the three of them since he once again held the weight of the Omnitrix on his shoulders. 

  
Ben knew the dangers that came with being aware of aliens and Plumber authority and the Omnitrix. He couldn’t – wouldn’t – allow his parents to own a fate full of tragedy. If their lives were to be under continuant threat like Ben’s own, whether it be because of his watch or the glut number of enemies that came with being a hero, Ben wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. And while the pity party Ben was currently throwing for himself was fun and full of cake, the chance and dread that came not being able to protect his family, even with the power of the Omnitrix, was something that kept him from the arms of sleep. Dreams were never very peach and creamy with such thoughts. Only black and burnt and blood bathing. 

  
“This is ridiculous! Carl, tell your son to stop with this rebellious attitude and make his poor mother happy for once.”

  
“ _Our_ son – and yelling at him won’t do any good.” 

  
“Do something then! I have had it up to here with him. It’s like he wants nothing to do with us these days, like carrying him for nine months meant nothing. Do twenty-three hours of labour mean nothing to you, Ben?!”

  
“Please don’t make the boy answer that, Sandra.”

  
Thank fuck, Ben thought, tucked tight within the folds of his jacket; birthing stories, while usually being awfully beautiful, were also awfully graphic; Ben didn’t feel quite up to testing the strengths of his stomach with such a thing. His mother had her hands balled on the table as she cursed out his disobedience. His father, while not as openly furious and trying his best to docile Sandra’s spitting temper, pinched the bridge of his nose in a tiresome way. 

  
“Ben.” Carl said, hushing the melodramatic cries of his wife. “Talk to us, son. What’s this really about?” 

  
“Nothing. Just school, like I said.” Ben mumbled. His appetite was lost. His guilt was eating him alive. His parents were questioning him about things he couldn’t confine in them in without risking their safety. And to top this train wreck of a cake off with a cherry, being interrogated by his parents had made him late for his movie date with Julie. “I’m sorry, can we finish this conversation off later tonight? I have a date with Julie at seven and I’m already running late.”

  
The creases on Carl’s forehead pressed, “is Julie the reason why you don’t want to go? Are you two having problems? Or, are you worried you’ll miss your girlfriend while in Europe?”

  
Those were good questions; some that Ben had been trying to ask himself for quite some time. Were he and Julie ‘having problems’ as his father put it? Ben didn’t particularly think so... They were about to go on a date. In Ben’s mind and grasp of relationships, couples who were having problems didn’t go on dates. Dates were to rekindle the sparks of passion and ardor between a pair (Ben knew such things because Gwen had told him once, and while she may have never had the chance to test this wisdom on her own someone special, she did read an awful lot of Nicolas Sparks – so Ben trusted her). If the spark was already sniffed, why bother? On the other hand, if Ben could express how excessive his excitement was to be going on a date with his lovely girlfriend, he would be full of shit instead of money. While on topic, if Ben – hypothetically, of course – did end up tagging along with his parents to Europe, would he even miss Julie? Ben would like to think so. 

  
Think. Think. Think. Think. Think. 

  
Ben didn’t like thinking about those of questions, and even if he did, he always had Gwen there to help him sort through things. But he didn’t have Gwen now. And even that roused several thoughts. That’s all he seemed to do lately; think until a numbing pain burst behind his eyelids, or until he got lost in the twists and turns of his own mind. That, however, was a thoughtless thing. Since the summer of the hero’s tenth birthday, getting lost in his own mind was a habitual occurrence. 

  
In the past, when the frenzy of thought attacked Ben, he and Gwen would stay up pending twilight’s death and whispered the things which frightened them most as day bled into the sky. It was a good game they would play. Chasing each other around the Well of Thought as if they were young again. _Penny for a thought?_ Gwen would always say; she thought herself so funny. The pun was bought about how they would treat their worries like coins and aim them into the dark gape of the Well, the one they together imaged to be made of cobble and stone crumbs. 

  
Penny for a thought…

  
It was all so simple back then. Not like now, Ben thought as he gawked, frozen and reeling at his mother as she repeated her question. It had escaped his concentration while his mind was at the Well. Now, it had struck him so abruptly Ben felt as if the question had knocked the sense out of him. The brunet could see his mum work her mouth at a pace as a series of words surged past her lips. He wanted to understand what she was trying to articulate to him, but every time Ben thought he comprehended her question his mind would come to a thundering crash. 

  
“Benjamin Kerby Tennyson, answer me!” Sandra hissed, her hands clawing at the bone of her jaw in distress. “Is Julie pregnant or not? Is that why you can’t come with us to Europe? Because you got your girlfriend pregnant? Ben, you’re fifteen!”

  
Ben couldn’t get his mouth to work, “n-no. No! No, she isn’t! What – what? What the hell gave you the impression that I got Julie pregnant? We haven’t even – I’m not ready; we’re not ready. We’re not – I mean we tried but I couldn’t get…Wait, that’s not what I mean. Julie is not pregnant! End of story.” Ben felt so sick. Even the thought of the possibility of Julie…Nope. Just nope. Holy fuck, nope. “What the hell, mum?”

  
Sandra’s whole body deflated like an old balloon as she answered her son. “I’m sorry dear, I just had to check. You’ve been acting so…distant lately, even more so than usual – it’s like you’ve got the whole world on your shoulders. It’s not normal for a boy of your age to have so much to worry about. I thought that maybe, you and Julie had discovered an accidental surprise.”

  
_Pff, try the whole universe. But thanks, mum. Really. Because I’m definitely that kind of teenager._

  
“Again; no! Never. Just no. Do you want to hear it in Spanish; no.” Ben said, cutting his mother a dirty look. “If you couldn’t understand, that meant ‘no’. Now, can I please leave and go meet up with my so not-pregnant girlfriend?”

  
Sandra held her head in her hands as she mumbled her approval. Carl rubbed the stress from her shoulders and tried his best to support his wife through her emotion uproar, thought Ben could tell from the constant twitch in the corner of his father’s lip that Carl found this whole situation hysterical. 

  
_Not cool._

  
Ben left the house before he could witness his father burst into an aggressive chortle.

  
**iIIi**

  
“You’re late.”

  
“I know. I’m sorry.”

  
Julie had a cross look about her, though it slowly but surely melted at the sight of Ben red faced and out of breath. He had sprinted to the cinemas. Something he didn’t intent to do, however the conversation from earlier had scrambled his brains into a bunch of nothing and at that moment, running was a must if he wanted to keep himself from screaming. He didn’t feel right. Something about that conversation made him feel…off. And all he wanted to do was to call Gwen to make it not off. On top of everything, Ben really didn’t feel like being at the movies with Julie. 

  
But Julie didn’t seem to get that. 

  
Tying their arms together, Julie flashed Ben an impish smile. “It’s okay, you can make it up to me by buying me something to eat before the movie starts. Hope you bought enough money to spend because I’m starving.” 

  
There was a large pause between conversations before the hero answered confidently. 

  
“Deal.” Ben said, his lips curling into an honest grin. Did he still feel off to the extent that he didn’t want to be there? Yes. Was he, however, willing to look past that and be a good boyfriend to Julie? Also, yes. Ben had a beautiful, faithful girl in his arms who was willing to deal with the tarty, sweaty mess that he was, the least he could do was show her a good time and maybe dip into his emergency cash to pay for her meal, too. 

  
“Great! I’ve been wanting to try out this new sushi place for a while now and it’s just around the corner from this particular cinema.”

  
How convenient. 

  
“Sounds awesome, Juls’.” 

  
It didn’t. Ben hated raw fish, but he could pretend to enjoy it just for tonight. Plus, he had already eaten dinner for that night, Ben could easily blame his lack of appetite on that. 

  
“Off we go then!”

  
And off they went. Julie, quick to take a fistful of Ben’s ionic green jacket and drag him to their destination, a certain spark in her step. Ben was always fond of how determined she was, even as he struggled to keep up a quick pace with her. Julie, as feisty and keen and beautiful as ever, led Ben to a small, cozy sushi bar on the corner of 6th street. It wasn’t too much of a walk, so they had quite a lot of time on their hands before the movie started. Which, in truth, Ben was thankful for. He didn’t know what movie Julie had goaded him into seeing with her, what was more frustrating was that she purposely refused to let him know. She wanted it to be a ‘surprise’. Ben just hoped it wasn’t something too romantically cheesy. 

  
Their dinner date was nice, nonetheless. It was as charming and romantic as two fifteen-year olds could get at a corner bar. They laughed and told stories of the past, Julie spoke passionately about an upcoming tennis match and Ben tried to keep his interest in the conversation and even promised to attend the game if Julie wanted. Of course, she agreed and showed her gratitude by kissing the knuckle of Ben’s hand. Ben, while happy to see his girlfriend beaming, cursed himself silently. The brunet hated tennis. He didn’t understand the sport, nor did he enjoy watching a ball get smacked around for an hour. It was boring! But it made Julie happy and Ben wanted to be a supportive boyfriend because, apparently that was important in a relationship; who would have guessed? All Ben had to do was remember to show up…

  
“They thought I was pregnant!”

  
After Ben foolishly promised away one of his July Sundays, Julie had asked about his day. The question had bought out the storyteller in Ben as he waffled on the offensive nature of William Shakespeare and the interesting dinner table chat, he had with his folks not so long ago. Looking back on the events now, the brunet could understand how his father thought it so funny. Julie, however, chose an unfortunate time to bite into something white and wrapped in seaweed as the shock factor of the story kicked in.

  
“Yeah, I know. Funny, right?”

  
“What the hell would make them think that, Ben?!” Julie cried; she had taken the courtesy of holding a hand over her mouth to shield Ben away from whatever remained between her teeth. Ben didn’t care that much over certain things like that. Food was food. Chewed up or not. “Is this all because I kissed you goodbye that one time? It was on the cheek, I thought that was parent-approved!”

  
Ben sighed, “no. It’s not because of that. It’s just getting harder to keep the Omnitrix a secret from them these days, plus, they’re noticing a lot more now. Especially when I’m coming home around three in the morning all scuffed up after fighting some alien lowlife. They’ve starting to question and accuse me of a lot of things now – so I can’t really say I’m that surprised that they asked something like this. They probably think I’m hanging around a bad crowd.” 

  
The hero poked and pried at the scrap leftover from the few pieces of sushi that he managed to stomach. Turned out tuna fish sushi wasn’t so bad when mixed with cucumber and mayo.

  
“Well, it doesn’t help that you’re always around Kevin.”

  
Ben snapped his head forward, eyes locked on the round of Julie’s face. It was pinched and all serious-like, like this, was a thought she had buzzing at the back of her mind for quite some time. Though, the girl didn’t seem to notice his stagger, nor the uncertainty which swirled like a May hurricane behind his eyes. 

  
_Kevin? What was wrong with Kevin?_

  
“What does Kevin have to do with anything?”

  
“I don’t know,” Julie shrugged harmlessly, but her soured tongue gave her away. “He just kind of screams ‘bad crowd’ to me. Even my parents don’t like when I’m around him for too long, so I understand where yours are coming from.”

  
Ben scrunched up his nose, an argument locked and loaded between his lips.

  
“Kevin isn’t a ‘bad crowd’.” Ben rowed, “he’s one of the good guys. A hero. He spent the whole year fighting DNAliens with us, you better than anyone should know that, Julie.” 

  
The young tennis player seemed taken back at how quickly her boyfriend had jumped to the street rat’s defense. 

  
“I have nothing against Kevin, Ben.” Julie shot back; her arms crossed dangerously over her chest. She was determined to show the brunet how disappointed and upset she was at him for taking such a ridiculing tone with her. “I know he’s good, but our parents, on the other hand, do not. And you cannot sit there and tell me that Kevin Levin does not give off ‘fresh off the streets’ vibes.”

  
“That’s not the point.”

  
“I think it is.”

  
A flux of displeasure teased down the back of Ben’s spine, “can we just stop talking about Kevin? Please? We need to go, anyway. It’s almost eight. The movie’s about to start.”

  
Julie agreed and happily let Ben pay for both their meals as promised. And like before, it didn’t take them long to reach the doors of the movie theater, only this time the passion and play had turned stale. Since they didn’t need to pay for the tickets as Julie had already pre-purchased them, the pair headed straight into the theater in search of their seats. So, Ben’s only worry was Julie wanting cinema snacks, but he hoped that dinner had turned her off sweets for the night. The hero had roughly around twelve dollars in his pocket and no way to get home in the dark without buying a bus pass. Who knew raw fish and some rice could be so expensive?

  
“I’m so excited that we’re seeing this movie.” Julie cheered, her mood quickly veering into something much sweeter. 

  
“You still haven’t told me what we’re seeing.”

  
Julie ironed the invisible creases out of the white of her skirt; they had found their seats. “Oh, yeah. We’re seeing the new ‘Charlie’s Angels’. I originally pre-ordered these tickets for Gwen and me as an early birthday present since the original and early thousands’ Charlie’s Angels were some of her favorite movies. But now that she’s gone, that idea is down the drain. So, I thought instead of wasting two perfectly good movie tickets, you and I could use them and go on a movie date.”

  
Ben felt the muscles in his body wound tight.

  
“…These tickets were for Gwen’s birthday?”

  
Julie continued to pay Ben no attention as she wrestled for comfort within her seat. “Hmm? Oh. Don’t worry, I’ll problem buy her the movie when it comes out on BlueRay as a late birthday present or something. Knowing your Grandmother, Gwen might not come back until Christmas. I have plenty of time to figure it out til’ then.” 

  
Her words broke him. Or rather, her nonchalant attitude about the subject broke him. Either way, Ben struggled to breathe in the confined space of the theater’s seats. It hurt. Julie’s words hurt. His heart was but the stained windows of an elapsed cathedral, already riddled with fine fractures as Julie played the part of the rock throwing juvenile. It started with a single stone, then a pair of pebbles, ending with a bouquet of bedrock until Ben was left with bleeding feet and crumbs of glass.

  
How. 

  
How could she say something like that?

  
Verdona had promised, and Gwen had sworn. In the end, the both had vowed that Gwen would be back before Summer’s end. 

  
And Gwen would never break her promise to Ben. Never. 

  
Did Julie not get that? 

  
“I think I need to leave,” Ben whispered.

  
“Hmm? What was that, Ben?”

  
No. It wasn’t that she didn’t get how serious Gwen undertook her promises. Julie just didn’t get any of it. 

  
“I need to leave,” Ben repeated, his words pricked and bleeding. “ _Now_.” 

  
The hero thought best not to wait for his girlfriend’s approval as he surged from the arms of the chair with a wild, unpredictable nature about him. Ben needed fresh air, the crisp kind that coupled the eerily hours of the night. He didn’t want to wait for Julie to grant him permission or give her the chance to consider joining him. Ben didn’t even want to be around her at this point in time. So, he took off far too quickly for her mind to process, and he didn’t bother turning back. 

  
**iIIi**

  
It was well into the late hours of twilight when Ben had a chilling recollection.

  
‘ _Night was often a rare beauty when you were happy – happy and love lost. Night, as it was known for its open, warm embrace in summer also played the companion when you were heavy with grief and abuse and seeking comfort. However, many forget that the same inky bay you gaze into when the sun is hushed away is as much as a graveyard as it is a nursery; as stars come into life, they are also sent to implode and die in a cosmos both cruel and mother-like; known as Night to the clumps of vibrating atoms listed humans. Terrible is the night. Night is the terrible. Terrible, terrible. Especially when you are lost on love and a lonely-thing._ ’

  
Paradox tended to ramble nonsense when they worked together on missions. It wasn’t hard for Ben to ignore him. The Time-Walker was always reappearing and disappearing and reappearing again halfway through his zany monologs; never making sense yet somehow his madness was the only sense that was ever understood when Paradox was added into the equation. If the boy did try to unpick the professor’s usual knot of words, Ben would end up with a headache. It was just better to let him ramble. In one ear and out the other. Yet, why did such a ramble of nonsense creep its way back into Ben’s thoughts? Yes, he was alone, it was almost ten-thirty at night, and he was at a rather small and poorly kept Mr. Smoothy – of course, he was alone. But the night wasn’t so terrible. Without Julie, or anyone really, Ben could finally breathe, think, and feel himself once again. The drear which hung his neck like a dead dog on a leash when his cousin’s name was uttered could not reach this far out of Ben’s little broken bubble. The real world was too large for the dread to find him. Ben could hide; become lost in an ocean of star and sky – not have to feel… Ben had always worshiped the space beyond what his eye could see. He was only just a kid when he first traveled to distant galaxies and uncharted planets. It was how he discovered the Omnitrix’s origins and creator, Asthma and his knowledge of the good and evil which lies beyond his humble, little Earth. 

  
School wasn’t something Ben could say he prided himself on. If anything, his earthly education was somewhat neglected these days and through most of last year. His responsibilities to the universe often outweighed the ones his school would set for him: meaning, Alien fighting, and world-saving would usually steal what time he would normally have for studying and exam preparation.

  
The skipping of school days and classes due to daytime fights and injuries didn’t help his case either.  


Sure, it was lame he still had to chase an education. Ben knew what he wanted to be – a Plumber. Like his grandfather. That sort of occupation was not one which required a silly thing like a high school diploma. Plus, it wasn’t that Ben was dumb (despite public opinion). Yes, English was a constant struggle, but many of his other classes were what most would call nerdy: Algebra 2, Astronomy, Physics and Gym. When focused and given time to improve on his work ethics and organizational skills, Ben was quite (dare he say it) intelligent. He knew he worked best on his own, often just needing to hear the teacher explain and give example to the topic they were on to fully grasp what he needed to understand and pass whatever test there was going to be at the end of the term. However, Asthma left out the part where it said being the Wielder of the Omnitrix meant having shitty grades. 

  
The only class he wasn’t currently failing was Astronomy, though, that had nothing to do with his work ethics on the subject. Ironically, Ben’s Astronomy class was the class he paid less care to compared to the others. When he did show up to school, Physics and English were his top two prioritized classes. The reason for his somewhat top grades in Astronomy was due to the pure fact that Ben lived and breathed the celestial phenomena known as outer space. Between the Astrophysics ABD-leveled lectures Asthma had been subjecting him to since the age of ten about the universe and its creations, and his constant travel into space itself with Kevin and other intergalactic Plumbers, Ben could safely say that Stellar evolution and the identification of chemicals used to form the Helix Nebula in his sophomore Astronomy class was a slice of Grandpa Max’s Betelgeuse slug pie.

  
Ben sat himself upright, the dig of the wooden bench finally assaulting the structure of his back to a level of clear discomfort. It never occurred to him before, but the brunet owned his fellow hero a ‘thank you. A remark Kevin had made a few months back about liquid iron in planetary cores had saved Ben on his latest Astronomy test, if it wasn’t for Kevin snapping at Ben’s ignorance as to why he couldn’t go speeding into the targeted planet’s atmosphere, Ben would have never of known that certain planets have an extremely weak natural magnetic force and the interference of the Rustbucket’s gamma radiation could ultimately damage whatever device the planet’s occupants had constructed to keep their plant from constant space-drift. 

  
He hadn’t seen Kevin at all since Gwen’s farewell. Ben didn’t know how to feel about such a thing. There were times were the two (plus Gwen) would spend days upon days together traveling the desert in Kevin’s cramped, yet ridiculously cool car. If not DNAlien hunting, Ben would somehow find the ruffian – as his mother had pinned him – crashed on his couch dozing in and out of a light sleep (Ben guessed that years being out on the street as well as his time spent in…other places forced Kevin to develop terrible sleeping patterns. Ben had never seen the Osmosian drift off into a deep slumber, not even on the road when the three of them were forced to sleep away the nights due to pure exhaustion that occurred through a busy day of alien-ass-kicking. Ben remembered, not clearly mind you, in his daze of sleep-poisoned consciousness, while pressed to the very back of the cameo, jacket for a makeshift blanket, the valley of his eyes floated by aimlessly and half-hidden by lead-lids until they accidentally stole a peep at the older teen. He stood out of the car in solitude, leaning just barely on the hood. There was a twitch of need buried deep within the joins of his fingers, like at this time of night they were used to a weight between them. It was the restless nature of Kevin that kept Ben in his state of half-awake-ness. Kevin was by trait a restless soul, that familiar attitude tempted to lull Ben back to sleep: Kevin was keeping watch, his mind had soothed. Kevin wouldn’t let anything bad happen. Yet, what Ben couldn’t understand was what the teen was so on edge about. There was nothing to be so restless over, the DNAliens were taken care of and in the morning, they would be on their way home. This was what almost had Ben crawling out of the car, all sleepy and touch-hungry, in hopes of baring some of his friend’s troubles. The brunet’s train of thought crashed when a sudden crow-black stare locked onto the drowsy lime of his own. Kevin had caught him in his sleepy peeping and held his gaze with his own quiet look – what Ben didn’t remember was how long their stolen moment lasted. In very few seconds maybe, Kevin had crept back into the car all silent-like. He didn’t look away, however, not once, and neither did Ben. _Ben, go back to sleep_ , was all Kevin said as he started the car. He remembered the hum of the stirring engine, how it rocked him into a soundly half-death. Ben couldn’t help but suspect he was the one who took his eyes off Kevin first, finally falling back into a full sleep. The next time he opened his eyes was to find Gwen shaking him awake as the car was parked at the front of his house. The sun had barely breached the horizon). Either that, or Kevin’s focus was stolen by a game programmed on the T.V., or simply snacking on Ben’s favored sweets. Before Ben discovered that Kevin was, in fact, breaking into his house, the younger teen believed that his mother was the one who let the stray in…

  
It was weird – after being together and reliant on each other for a whole year, not seeing either of his teammates for six days subjected Ben to a miserably tedious week. Ben felt awfully average. And lonely. Painfully lonely. 

  
“Hey, kid! are you gonna buy something or what? My shift ended twelve minutes ago, and I don’t get paid for overtime.”

  
The brunet staggered up to the counter, the bashful flush across his cheeks pointed at the embarrassment Ben felt over keeping the employee from closing shop and going home.

  
“Sorry, man. Didn’t know Mr. Smoothy closed at this hour...” Ben dug around in his back pocket for whatever cash he had left. He was sure he shoved a couple of tens’ in there after dinner. “Can I get a large Banana-berry-carrot-kale-Crush, please?”

  
“Six-ninety-five, kid. Is that all?”

  
Ben frowned, unintentionally ignoring the cashier as he patted at his person vigorously. The hero was certain he stuffed his back pocket full of the last of his bills in a rush to get both Julie and him to the movies on time. 

  
“Kid. Is that all?”

  
Ben was pretty sure that the dude serving him was only two years his senior, yet that didn’t stop him from flashing the red-faced employee a timorous smile. Finally, after seeking fingers shot from pocket to pocket, Ben located the remaining money tucked away in the front pockets of his jeans.

  
“Yeah, sorry – seven dollars, right?”

  
There was a grunt in terms of an agreement and a few more words shared between the two as Ben paid and waited patiently for his change. Rough night? _Sorta_. Come here often? _Sometimes_. And yada-yada. It was the same old awkward, forced small-talk transaction from one to another that each and every teen secretly feared. The money was handled and a rushed thank you was giving while the cashier promised his wait would not be long. Ben didn’t mind. Both teenagers were eager to put an end to their encounter and Ben honestly felt bad for keeping the employee past his pay-time. 

  
Ben’s fretfulness came out in bursts of nervous fits and hand tremors. The few coins which sat in the cage of his hand endured a sheet of sweat from either the hero’s impulsive anxiety or the heat of summer’s night. Still, Ben repressed his nerves and slick palms within the pockets of his jacket, coins disowned only for his fingers to press their warm buds against plastic and film. 

  
This wasn’t the original finding of the strange object held in the stitching of Ben’s iconic green jacket. While on his treasure hunt moments ago, Ben first recalled the discovery. However, much was on his mind and little care or curiosity blossomed from such an unearthing.

  
Now his mind ran with the wolves and wonder. 

  
What could it possibly be?

  
And while the unknown was delicious, knowledge was utter nirvana – fantasy and ecstasy, hand in hand. 

  
Ben was never a patient child. 

  
His hands were rough and hungry, snatching the thing from out his pockets as if he had stolen his fingers into a honey hive. What was pinched between them, struck at Ben’s center.

  
It was the polaroid – the one taken by Gwen of the three of them at her parting of the world and their team. He had thought she had taken it with her, not slipped it into his pocket. The deed was benevolently true to his cousin’s selfless nature. Gwen was, in Ben’s opinion, the strongest in heart between the three. Gwen was the type of person who could take an arrow to the chest persistently yet fuss and fret over those with a simple splinter. She was…noble like that. 

  
Ben couldn’t relate. He had egocentric tendencies and was narrowed vision at times. However, what he lacked in awareness; Ben made up for in courage. That did not mean that neither Kevin or Gwen were timid or spineless in nature (quite the opposite), but it was one of Ben’s fiercest characteristics. The hero was known throughout the galaxy for his dauntless, wild approaches when in battle. It was what gave him the Hero title, after all. Gwen sometimes teased him that he had the ‘Courage of Achilles!’, lightly mocking both Ben and his favourite superhero – outside of the Sumo Slammers universe, of course – Shazam. The saying was enough for Gwen to be convinced that Ben’s reasoning for admiring the character so was for their reoccurring similarities such as courage and thrusted into the hero-gig at such a young age. Who knew, maybe she was right. Whatever Shazam still rocked!

  
Ben thumbed over the glossy photo, drunk with though and lost on a cocktail of memory and emotion. Ben dabbled in the belief that when they were kids, Gwen’s selflessness and his own dare was what got them through that one summer all those years back, as well as the one just passed. 

  
_And Kevin. Kevin helped, too._

  
It was true, Kevin did help. A lot. With the stakes raised so high, Ben could honestly say that without their ex-con of a teammate, they couldn’t have risen to the challenge that the past year held: Grandpa Max missing, the return of the Forever Knights, new and old foes popping up from every bush, the DNAlien Invasion…None of them could have been stopped or handled without Kevin being part of their little three-man army. 

  
And while Gwen was altruistic, and Ben plucky – Kevin was driven.

  
And different.

  
Determination was a trait that was shared among both of his teammates, while Ben was unloved by the feature; too lazy, he was. But hell, if Gwen was determined, Kevin was almost wayward when it came to his willpower. It was ironic in ways, Kevin’s mindset often reflected upon the materials he could adsorb. When the older teen’s mind was set on a single goal, or sometimes multiple goals, whether that be protecting his friends, continuously advancing his ‘ride’, stopping a bad guy, or getting paid – mostly getting paid – Kevin was indomitable in his task. Iron willed and persistent, Kevin carried himself like a paradox; unmoving, yet also so driven to the point of pure obsession. 

  
Despite this, when Kevin’s rowdy temperament bared a violent smile – with too much wolf in to belong to a boy of his age – Ben was silent with judgment. While both Tennyson’s were born with characteristics aligned with the good and just of the world, Kevin’s fortitude allowed him to play in the world with an unpredictable hand. It was a survival mechanism, yes. But, depending on the reward, it exposed Kevin’s dangerously impulsive neutrality in the world. 

  
Roguish Charm, Kevin called it. Ben thought that Kevin should stop indulging in ‘street’ behaviour. 

  
He wasn’t some disowned street-rat, desperate to survive. Not anymore, anyways. He was a part of a team now – a good-guy team. And he was a part of Ben’s world. Kevin shouldn’t feel determined to survive, but instead, driven to thrive through the help of their friendship. Ben wouldn’t abandon him. Not after everything they’ve been through together. 

  
But would Kevin?

  
Ben had narrowed the raw jade of his eyes to the photo-version of the ex-con. The jerk was as smooth as ever, all bad-boy swagger and perfect jawline captured effortlessly in a single poloid film. The marrow of Ben’s ribcage spoiled to wet cerement the longer he studied Kevin in the picture. It had been a while since he had seen Kevin’s face and all this sudden bitterness directed towards the other teen was unfair, but he couldn’t help but feel ireful. Truly, Ben knew his crossness wasn’t because of Kevin’s choices in life. Ben was bitter-blue over the fact that not only had he lost his cousin, but Ben feared that without Gwen, Kevin wouldn’t care if Ben was swallowed by his bedsheets. Were Ben’s insecurities based on reality? and Kevin was only his friend because he and Gwen were a packaged deal? It hurt to think that was all he was to Kevin: Gwen’s plus one?

  
Ben wanted to shred the photo between his teeth. It was making him think too hard. 

  
Maybe instead of sulking in a Mr Smoothy’s parking lot at ten-thirty PM, Ben could go out and get answers. He had always been a take-action kind of dude. Plus, being stuck in his head all night with all these emotions was driving him whacky. Like Professor Paradox-whacky. There was a bus station only a few blocks down, Ben could easily bus-it to Kevin’s place. Maybe he could get his questions answered or just clear his head. Or, maybe, if he was lucky, he could just naturally piss Kevin off and they both could duke it out and Ben could finally blow off some steam. Or, you know – they could just hang out. Hang out and chat. Be bros, or, whatever.

  
Ben stalked back to the cashier; his drink had to be done by now. 

  
“Hey, do you know how much a bus pass cost?”

  
**iIIi**

The Mr Smoothy’s employee had given Ben quite the sour look when he went back to ask for another drink as well as the cost of a one-way bus ticket. As if Ben could just show up at Kevin’s place empty-handed at this time of night. A peace offering was much needed in this situation. And what was better than a large coconut-kiwi-vanilla smoothie? It was, after all, Kevin’s favorite drink. Even though at the beginning of their patchy team-ups, Kevin claimed he preferred milkshakes to smoothies, Ben was proud to say he had spent the first few months of DNAlien hunting and Grandpa finding weaning Kevin out of his terrible taste in drink. Sparking Kevin’s era of beverage experimentation was enjoyable, no matter how boring the end result became (seriously? Vanilla and coconut with a dash of kiwi? Kevin, you dull-tasted jerk). Ben savored the faces Kevin made while he explained in an overexaggerated style how sickly-sweet each drink sampled. It was free entertainment for Ben at the time…Now it was a fond memory. 

  
The hero stood at the front of a heavily built apartment block with light pockets and sweaty, tired hands; the weight of both his and Kevin’s smoothies were beginning to knit a cotton ache between his wrist joints. Ben was nervous. Not only did he not know which apartment condo was the Osmosian’s, but Ben also didn’t know how to even get into the building itself. Did he need a key? Could he ring Kevin to come to get him? 

  
As embarrassing as it was, Ben had never actually been invited into Kevin’s apartment. And he was sure Gwen hadn’t either. Kevin was strangely reserved when it came to his own place of dwelling. Comfortable as he was with invading the lives and homes of others, the ex-con had made it clear from the start that neither Gwen nor he was allowed foot or claw inside Kevin’s own house. Ben only knew where the place was located due to the number of pitstops Kevin made whilst on a mission. Apparently, the older teen kept some of the galaxy’s most advanced and dangerous machinery in his underwear drawer. 

  
Yet, obedience was a costly thing and Ben was a boy broke. So here he was, fussing under the pale lamplight of Kevin’s apartment building with two thawing smoothies in hand. 

  
The impulse to transform into Big Chill and phase through the pollution smeared bricks bubbled impenitently like boiled oil on Ben’s tongue; he had to drag the tip routinely over the white of his front teeth to contain himself. 

  
Gravel unsettled behind him and Ben was a jolt away from discarding his drinks and succumbing to his urges. The blunt of his name pulled from tooth and tongue sent him still.

  
“Ben?”

  
Kevin broke from the pitch of night partnered by a crowbar and a semi-absorbed, iron arm. 

  
Holy shit, he was going to beat Ben to death for being broke and stupid. 

  
“Yeah?”

  
Kevin blinked once, maybe even twice. Ben couldn’t really tell; it was rather dark. “Why the fuck, are you creeping by my apartment? You’re scarin’ my neighbors, Tennyson.” 

  
The hero didn’t know how to respond to the allegation. He had been trotting about the front of the building for quite some time now, but not in a murderous fashion to his knowledge – Ben’s features wore a kicked-pup sort of look and were too soft to mock homicide. But Kevin had his ‘you-better-answer-now-or-I-will-kick-your-teeth-in-no-shits-given’ frown pressing his face stone-cold. Ben rushed to articulate an explanation for his actions in an educated and clear manner. 

  
“Mr Smoothy. Duh.”

  
He may have the Courage of Achilles, but he certainly did not have the Wisdom of Solomon. 

  
After having a drink shoved into his face, Kevin was quick to snatch the back of Ben’s collar and drag the smaller boy to the back of the building. Ben went limp in his hold; throwing a fit at being handled like a child was not going to gain him any brownie point with Kevin. All the hero could do was match the older teen’s grumpy scowl with his own sour, turned lip. Their journey ended when Kevin marched them into a well-lit garage tucked away into the lower spine of the building. The drastic shift in lighting spat in Ben’s eye while Kevin pressed him into a spent couch. 

  
Kevin knitted his fist into the front of Ben’s shirt as the hero witnessed the chocolate of his eye simmer into a burnt-black. With his voice fixed with a firm undertone, the older demanded Ben to sit, stay, and shut up. The hero paid no attention to the swell of menace and restless concern in Kevin, having the roughen so close to his person had Ben burning up. The garage was a hazard in its own right – holding the heat of that day hostage even after the sun’s setting ruled in it in Ben’s mind as a menace to the public’s health and his health more importantly. And Kevin was no help, the jerk was practically renting out his body as a filtering system for the fried air. If anything, the fever dribbling out of the Osmosian not only baked Ben alive but added a lick of woodfire to Kevin’s scent. Now he smelt like motor oil and sweat and a freshly put out campfire. Ben had to run the tip of his tongue over his lips all but tasting the salt in Kevin’s heat. 

  
Kevin could adsorb energy, though he tended not too ever since the accident from when they were kids. 

  
However, Ben knew that when Kevin had a habit of losing himself in his work, he subconsciously drank in the energy around him. Thermal energy tended to be the easiest of things to consume, and instead of getting drunk off power and insanity, it pumped the Osmosian full of restlessness and verve. These were the times where Kevin was the most… _playful_ with Ben. With all that extra energy running his blood hot, the older teen couldn’t keep his hands to himself in an effort to ease the vibration under his skin. He and Ben would often take this time to wrestle on the beach shore while Gwen played referee in the background sporting a suntan. Kevin would fight his dirtiest during these playful brawls. He wasn’t cautious when using his weight to pin Ben flat on his back, nor was he shy in the way he would grab at Ben. Yet, it was all harmless; neither of them would use their abilities and Kevin kept himself in line when it came to the use of real fighting techniques. Plus, Gwen was always there to keep them civil. For example, the last time this happened Gwen was quick to separate them with her manna when the Osmosian fisted Ben’s hair and the brunet returned his kindness with a bite to the shoulder. 

  
Ben wondered if they were going to wrestle tonight. He certainly hoped so. 

  
Kevin finally detached himself from the brunet in favor of stalking over to a phone which was mounted on the wall because apparently the ex-con thought at it was still the Cretaceous period where _telephones weren’t cordless_. 

  
To make it worse, Ben had to watch as Kevin dragged the rotary dial to each number before the ancient artifact could do anything useful.

  
“Yeah, ‘ello? Senora González, it’s Kevin…” 

  
Ben tuned out after that, but not because he wasn’t riddled with curiosity. No – instead, the hero was caught by surprise and sent tumbling down a rabbit hole of thought when Kevin’s voice hinted at an account and his words which were once English, curled and rolled off the very flat of his tongue into a stream of smooth Spanish. Ben was ignorant to believe that Gwen was the only one to be slick on the tongue with foreign words, of course, Kevin – the one who fought to survive every night out on streets both earthly and void, and perhaps even alien – had a language or two or three under his belt. Maybe the third wasn’t even one belonging to their planet...?

  
Only few words could hold the hero’s concentration after that – being the ones spoken in English on Kevin’s behalf or the lady on the other end of the conversation as their exchange of matter hopscotched from one language to the other. The lady had a slur in her speech that could have only come from a long life spent, and a rough Spanish accent. Though age tuned her voice, it seemed her youth was hidden and kept secret from time within the walls of her lungs. It didn’t matter if he could understand her or not, this Senora González was the loudest old lady Ben had ever heard. 

  
Between Kevin and his Spanish gossiping buddy, the brunet struggled to appreciate the sublime, god-touched voice of Hozier. While Ben wasn’t the most dedicated of fans, only fond of a handful of cherry-picked songs by the artist, this song was not sent to soothe deaf ears. 

  
“ _Boys workin' on empty  
Is that the kind'a way to face the burning heat?  
I just think about my baby  
I'm so full of love I could barely eat  
There's nothing sweeter than my baby  
I'd never want once from the cherry tree  
'Cause my baby's sweet as can be  
She give me toothaches just from kissin' me_”

The tempo caressed the ear like a lover yours for a thousand and more years; taking one’s soul as a strawberry to dip in hollows where chocolate was warm and flowing. The verses took their turns pressing the sweet, brown tip to your wet mess of a mouth. It was all heat and sugar after that. And you couldn’t help but taste yourself through each word. If holy was a creation of Man, Hozier would be our Lord and his songs, our gospels. 

  
It was a crime not to drift off and lose yourself within the song and Ben was no sinner. 

  
But apparently, Kevin was.

  
Quite an unattractive burp sounded from the record player Ben did not know was his source of music as Kevin plucked at the tonearm. He had ended his phone call with Senora Gonzá-something and choose now to pester Ben about his choice of nightly spending. 

  
“What the hell are you doin’ at my place, Tennyson?”

  
Kevin slouched against the same table which placed the record player, as well as a volume of mechanic tools which baffled Ben; the weight the table shouldered had its middle dipping in stress – if objects could weep, Ben was sure that single table could drown the world in pained tears. This sizable garage was surely not Kevin’s house, but rather, his home. The hero could tell by how stripped Kevin’s most beloved car was – how vulnerable it was bare and tucked snuggly between three cemented walls. Kevin would never take apart his car in such a way if he didn’t know for sure he had the time to pick up the bits and bolts and place them together like a puzzle-piece. This was a safe place for Kevin and Ben was – somewhat reluctantly – welcomed into it. Still, it was not the older teen’s condo which played the ever-mysterious character in this odd sort of production…

  
_Crazy. How well I know him somedays. Yet, on others, he’s a complete stranger._

  
“I told you before, man – Mr Smoothy. Duh.”

  
This time Kevin did accept the cup Ben half-heartedly forced into his personal space. Originally, buying Kevin the smoothie was Ben’s way of saying ‘please don’t slam the door in my face, I’m emotionally unstable and poor’. Now, he hoped the translation came across as: ‘please don’t impress me to death with your insane Spanish-speaking and holy tunes, I’m even more emotionally unstable and poor’. 

  
Kevin frown, “gross. You bought me a warm smoothie, Tennyson.”

  
“Don’t look at me, you waited too long.” Ben pouted back. “If you don’t want it, you don’t have to have it. It was just a…I don’t know. Peace offering? I guess.”

  
The Osmosian stilled his face for a moment before stealing a breathless sip of his smoothie. As the stripped lime drink slipped past through the straw and to his mouth, Kevin snapped back, grunting. Almost like he wasn’t expecting Ben to have gotten his order right. This honestly, was stupid on Kevin’s behalf considering Ben was the very person who proposed the combination to him all those months ago. Kevin then continued to suck on his teeth and dart his tongue along the red trail of his bottom lip, he seemed lost in thought, as if he had a consideration to attend to before he was allowed to return to his beverage without complaint.

  
There was no thank you exchanged and nothing else was said about the drink. Ben kept to his side of the garage, slurping away, and Kevin stay to his – glaring.

  
“Is there something on my face? Stop staring at me like that.”  


“Chill, Benjie,” Kevin replied casually. And he did that Kevin-thing where he chewed on the straw like a dog with a bone. “Just tryin’ to work out when you finally grew the balls to march in here like you owned the place…That all.” 

  
The brunet took to scrunching up his face in offence. “Hey! You’re the one who dragged my ass back here in the first place.”

  
“Potato, Potahto.” Kevin shrugged; his eyes had passed from the hero to his smoothie cup. It met between Ben’s kicked-off shoes and the shabby couch leg; empty, abandoned, unwanted – set aside much like that of a once beloved pup in the rain as the younger teenager nestled further into the sofa’s belly. And Ben dared to bare offence at the Osmosian’s claim. Though, Kevin was no fool. No matter Ben’s bark, his bite now could barely break skin. He had shrunk in on himself, burrowed a haven within Kevin’s secondhand couch.

  
“Why’re here, Benjie? It’s late. Dark. Far from that big, fancy house of yours.” Kevin continued. His tone sharp and precise, like that of a needle in the hunt for a vein; one fat and blue flushed. It was absent in the weightlessness from before, and Ben felt himself stiffen. 

  
“Why do you never invite me or Gwen over?”

  
Kevin gave himself some time to answer. He took another thoughtful sip of his smoothie: “I’ll show ya’ mine if ya’ show me yours?”

  
“Ha-ha. You’re so funny, I forgot to laugh.”

“Tennyson, come on – I’m serious. Spill or piss off, I don’t got time to waste on you.”

  
Ben bristled and shot from the fabric hold of the sofa, the green in his eye turned to neon poison as he snapped, “so am I, you jerk!”

  
It was like someone had sparked a match while in a room full of gas, and the next thing Ben knew he was flat on his back. Kevin had nailed him to the couch. The ex-con’s strong hands had screwed themselves within the material of Ben’s shirt, and a large knee had the Omnitrix pinned and out of the hero’s reach. Cunning as ever, Kevin was. 

  
“You little shit! Why are you trying so hard to start a fight with me?” Kevin spat. The smaller teen wrestled from under Kevin’s weight. It was almost like watching a wild animal caught in a trap. Ben was all teeth and sneer and feral noises. “ _Ben!_ ”

  
Hearing his name voiced in such a manner speared through Ben’s next outburst like a loose arrow. With each pulse of the clock, the hero softened and calmed the waywardness in his belly. Thrashing beneath Kevin as he still oozed hellfire mustered a sheen of sweat trailing around his airline. The heat of Ben’s breaths was stolen by Kevin’s as they simmered together amid the inch of space, they allowed between them. It reminded Ben how physically close they truly were. 

  
“I just…Miss Gwen. _So much_.” The brunet claimed, a blue tint to his uttered word. “And no one gets that. Not mum, or dad. Not even Julie…”

  
Ben didn’t need to have fixed his sights to Kevin to know the older teen was studying him. Ben could feel it. The intensity of his gaze. The dark, rich need to fathom Ben’s outburst – it was all too much to stomach. Sooner or later, Ben couldn’t tell, Kevin eased off him, his talons unhooked, and a sigh ripped out from behind his teeth. And all too soon, the hero could no longer feel the mass inferno hanging over him. 

  
Kevin kept close though, not touching Ben, exactly. But close enough for the brunet to still sense the weight of his presence. 

  
“My landlord…” Kevin began, and Ben could honestly admit he was stunned that the other boy was going to indulge him in his stupid question. “…Thinks I’mma drug dealer. And he’s real strict about keepin’ an eye on me and my bills. You know, make sure no rent is dirty or overdue. I didn’t – still don’t – need the heat he would have given me if you and your cousin kept lurking around my place whenever you felt like it. It would be so not cool to get kicked out of my house, man.” 

  
Ben pursed, then snorted, “that’s so stupid. You’re lame, but you’re not drug-dealer-lame.”

  
“I’m totally not far off it, though; Intergalactic Weapon Arms Dealer, remember?” 

  
Ben looked away as he drove his foot stubbornly into the muscle of Kevin’s thigh.

  
“ _Ex_ -arms dealer, actually.” He whispered. 

  
“Yeah, 'cause of you.” Kevin rumored back. “and Gwen. I miss her, too. Ya’ know.” 

  
The hero pawed at his sweaty brow and hummed Kevin an agreement back. Ben did know. 

  
“I think I messed up. With Julie over this whole Gwen situation. I fucked up our date.” Ben confessed, “and I don’t know how to fix it... So, I thought coming to see you who’s older and properly more experienced, you would know how to help me. I don’t know how to feel or how to un-fuck it up.”

  
“Ah. So, that’s why you’re so bitchy tonight.” Ben drilled the end of his toe bone deeper into the Osmosian’s thigh until he got a reaction that satisfied his sadistic nature. 

  
“You really are a jerk.” The brunet teased, snatching his foot back when Kevin made a grab for it. “So, are you gonna help me with my girl-problems, or what?”

  
Kevin gave a slugger grin, “I’ll think about it, Tennyson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, you’re more than welcome to leave a comment or criticism, I take both into consideration when writing. 
> 
> Thank you :)
> 
> N.N.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me if you’re feeling it or not. And be honest, I’m not going to attack you, I literally don’t have the time to. 
> 
> So umm...tea?
> 
> N.N


End file.
